


burnt by sunbeams

by Emlee_J



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Coming of Age, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Kagehina Big Bang 2020, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emlee_J/pseuds/Emlee_J
Summary: Tobio drops his hands from his face at Hinata’s bright voice and looks down. Hinata beams up at him, wide and blinding, a ball of sunshine on a gymnasium floor. Tobio kind of feels like he’s burning when Hinata looks like this – sunbeams personified – but that’s okay.He’ll happily spend the rest of his life getting burned by Hinata Shouyou.-Tobio thinks being in a relationship seems to be simple at first. It's just Hinata; there's just a lot more kissing involved. But no relationship is without challenges. And for Tobio, he'll weather them all, so long as he gets to bask in the sun.Hinata and Kageyama: a relationship study.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 147
Kudos: 562
Collections: Kagehina Big Bang 2020





	1. Today, This Time Too...

**Author's Note:**

> :D!!!! My first big bang event!!!! This my first time participating in an event and I had a BLAST so tysm to everyone on the server for your continued support <3 <3 especially when I was in edit jail for several days because I thought posting nearly 40k all at once would be a REALLY GOOD IDEA. 
> 
> This fic is a culmination of thoughts I've had about kagehina's relationship, with some character study sprinkled in, and I've found it hard to describe to others. I suppose coming of age is appropriate. Learning to be in a relationship, because it's not as simple as just being in one. It's been a long time since I wrote canonverse, and even longer since I wrote something this introspective, so this was fun <3 I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> And, most importantly:
> 
> Happiest of birthdays to Kageyama Tobio, who deserves to be happy.

_I didn't fall in love with you._

_I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way._

_I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway._

_And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you,_

_and I'd choose you._

_\- Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars_

* * *

Lunch time in Tobio’s third year is different.

Before, he’d always spent them alone and this had always been… fine. It was quite nice, actually, being able to sit in solitude, while not in complete isolation. There was the hubbub of his classmates, of the school in general, a pleasant thrum of noise that stopped it from being too quiet, too lonely.

(His bedroom is always too silent.)

But in his last year everything _shifts._

In the past, Hinata would, on occasion, pester him into joining him in the gym. Whine for some extra tosses when he felt he hadn’t gotten enough that morning or was feeling quietly insecure about something and wouldn’t say.

Now, he simply pesters for Tobio’s attention, his company.

Sometime during the break between their second and third school years, Hinata had clambered into his lap one evening after they were both sprawled on the floor of the gym. They were the third years now, they had the keys even if the school wasn’t officially open at the moment, and nobody would be coming by to bother them.

Hinata had clambered into Tobio’s lap and gave him a look so fierce, with _those_ eyes, that Tobio couldn’t shove him away even if he wanted to.

Then Hinata had leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t a particularly _good_ kiss – just a press of lips on lips with neither of them moving. Frozen still by Hinata’s sheer daring and Tobio’s sheer panic. Then the lights came back on inside their heads and they sprung apart. It was awkward, for all of a beat, before that little tangible thread of connection between them that allowed Tobio to just _know_ what Hinata was thinking, what he _wants_ , thrummed and they found themselves colliding back together again.

“Be my boyfriend?” Hinata had demanded the next day, and it sounded the same as when he asked for tosses – a question that isn’t really a question at all.

And, well, Tobio has always struggled to tell Hinata _‘no’._

(Especially when he’s yearning for it too.)

So now Tobio’s lunch hours aren’t filled with as much quietude as before. Sometimes it’s volleyball, sometimes it’s eating together, or sometimes it’s just sitting on the grass outside in nice weather while Hinata chatters and Tobio doesn’t really say much at all. Tobio likes those the most, he thinks, where Hinata slowly leans to the side until he’s propped up against him, a solid weight, and inches his fingers across the grass until they brush against Tobio’s.

It’s all so very new, and Tobio has no idea what he’s doing, but neither does Hinata, so that makes it okay, he thinks.

As long as he’s not losing.

So he notices, of course, when on a Tuesday a few weeks in to the new school year, Hinata doesn’t come to pester him outside of his classroom as usual. Tobio waits for five minutes before his patience runs out and curiosity takes over, and he goes wandering to find out where his wayward boyfriend has gotten to. Normally, if Hinata has to do anything else, he would send a sneaky text towards the end of his class for Tobio to see, but his phoned hasn’t pinged.

Tobio’s fairly certain Hinata has gotten himself into trouble with a teacher by the time he finds him - standing by the awards display just outside the vice principal’s office.

“You didn’t do anything to his wig again, did you?” he asks, just to be sure, when he nears.

Hinata blinks out of his reverie to swivel his gaze up at him irritably. _“No,”_ he pouts, “and it’s a _toupee_ , dummy.”

“Bless you,” Tobio grunts, losing interest now Hinata apparently hasn’t been dragged to the office for punishment. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“I was-” Hinata cuts himself off and waves his hands vaguely at the display in front of him, as if this answered everything. He sighs when Tobio just ticks his eyebrows up at him in exasperated confusion and continues. “I was just- _looking,_ you know?”

“No…?”

Tobio leans around his partner to peer into the glass cabinet himself, to see if he can see what it is that has grabbed Hinata’s attention. There’s a scattering of trophies and medals, the odd commemorative photo, a few certificates. The dribs and drabs of school achievements over years gone by. Tobio’s eyes drift until they fall on the volleyball section, and he’s privately pleased to see that it’s quite a bit larger than those for the other clubs.

“It’s our last year,” Hinata says beside him, so quietly Tobio almost misses it with the chattering of students milling around in the hallway.

Tobio turns his gaze from the trophies and certificates congratulating their participation in the Spring Nationals, the champions of Miyagi, and blinks down at Hinata. Hinata doesn’t seem to notice he’s being stared at, just continues to focus a faraway stare at the awards on the shelves. Those brown eyes are far from dim, but that familiar golden spark is also missing, and so Tobio frowns in annoyance.

“Hey,” he grunts, burrowing his fingers into Hinata’s ticklish side.

Hinata jolts violently, bites off a curse before he can finish it and aims a kick at Tobio’s shin.

Tobio dodges. “We’re going to win this time,” he says - as though it were obvious, because it _is_ obvious.

“Well _duh!”_ Hinata shouts, earning himself a few glances from their peers. “That’s not what- I mean- it’s our _last_ year! Don’t you…” he pauses as his voice lowers to almost a murmur. “Don’t you… want to do it more?”

“But then we couldn’t go any higher,” Tobio points out reasonably. After all, if they spend every year failing their exams and redoing high school tournaments, they’ll never get anywhere. And for Tobio especially, there’s a freshly signed agreement to one of the V League’s top teams sitting in his desk drawers, calling for him to finish.

Hinata doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there and flexes his hands in and out of fists with his face all scrunched up. But his eyes are sparking now, at least, so Tobio isn’t too worried.

He prefers it when Hinata is burning.

“Lunch!” his partner demands, earning him another scornful glance from a passing student, and then he snags Tobio’s wrist, yanking him along.

Tobio allows himself a small thrill of joy at being tugged before he regains some semblance of dignity and pulls his arm free, falling into the usual snipping banter about their upcoming biology test with familiar ease.

Behind them, the awards case fades into the background.

* * *

“Hinata-kun! A moment?”

Hinata spins on his heel, blinking in confusion.

He and Tobio are halfway to the bike rack - it’s become the new standard that they’ll walk home together as far as they can until Hinata needs to take a separate route for the mountain pass. Sometimes Yachi and the others join them on a group stroll that takes them past Sakanoshita’s, but that’s becoming a little less frequent as university applications loom closer. Tonight, it’s just Tobio and Hinata.

Or, it’s supposed to be anyway.

“Yes?” Hinata calls, confused, as Takeda-sensei waves at them, walking at a brisk pace in their direction. Tobio tilts his head in equal bafflement.

“It’s just about some paperwork for your trip,” Takeda says when he gets closer and his eyes flick briefly to Tobio, like he’s trying to keep a secret. Tobio doesn’t know why; he knows about Brazil, everyone does.

(Or everyone does _now,_ at least.)

“Oh! Oh, okay,” Hinata chirps, looking caught between surprise and nervous excitement. “I’ll see you later, Kageyama, okay?”

Tobio has just enough time to register this and vaguely lift his hand in farewell, before Hinata and Takeda both are departing, heads bent close together as they confer in low tones.

He finds himself standing there for a beat, before a little annoyed pout creases his face. It’s stupid, really, but a part of him has grown very used to, and very fond of, the little goodbye kiss that Hinata would bestow upon him when they part at the crossroads. So he turns in a grumpy circle, cheek decidedly cold, and sulks off towards home.

Having a boyfriend could be remarkably frustrating sometimes.

An hour or two later, once he’s eaten and is lounging around in bed trying to convince himself his homework doesn’t exist, most of the frustration has seeped away. He can always make Hinata pay him back double tomorrow – or demand a meat bun, perhaps.

Then a sharp rattle splits the air from his desk, interrupting his scheming, and Tobio turns his head on his pillow with a frown, watching his phone vibrate its way across the wooden surface. Who is calling him at this hour?

Rolling from the bed covers with a grunt, he slouches over to his desk to squint down at his still rattling mobile.

Hinata’s name shines out from the screen and he almost brightens, before a tingle of suspicion coils in his chest. Even Hinata very rarely calls him; most of their phone communication consists of texting.

“Kageyama!” Hinata’s voice chirps over the line when it connects, far too loud as usual.

Tobio grunts and jerks his head back a bit to save his eardrum. He’s barely gotten out a growl of annoyance before his stupidly overly loud boyfriend is cutting him off again, albeit at a more respectful volume.

“Can I come over?”

Tobio nearly replies with an instinctive _‘yes’_ – because Hinata often asks via a text on weekends, or when practice is wrapping up, if he can come over. Tobio’s home is a nice middle point – it’s halfway between school and Hinata’s house and, more importantly, it’s also almost always empty except for Tobio himself. It grants them a privacy which is hard to find in the Hinata household.

(Tobio is actually rather fond of Natsu, but she is quite nosy.)

So Hinata asking to come round isn’t new – sometimes he doesn’t even _ask_ , he just shows up – but it’s his tone that throws Tobio off. It isn’t bright or demanding like it normally is, like Hinata already knows Tobio will say yes and he’s just confirming it for the sake of politeness. Instead he sounds… not upset, exactly, but definitely like he is seeking something. He sounds like when he asks Tobio for his opinion on an upcoming match or how that last combo went.

Like he’s secretly unsure and is turning to Tobio for reassurance.

“Yeah,” Tobio says slowly, brow knotting, “what’s-“

“Okay, cool, see you in twenty minutes, bye!” Comes the rush of words over the speaker, once again cutting Tobio off before he can finish.

The click of the line going dead echoes in Tobio ear and he sighs, tossing his phone back onto his desk with a flick of his wrist. Well, whatever, he can poke Hinata about it when he inevitably shows up in fifteen minutes and starts trying to bash the door down with his over eager fist.

And, true to form, it’s only about sixteen minutes from Hinata’s phone call before there’s a vibrant knocking on the door just as Tobio slouches down the stairs.

“Why do you always have to knock so _loudly?”_ Tobio complains as he slides open the door to allow Hinata inside.

“Parson the intrusion!” Hinata sings out instead of answering that, shucking off his shoes and hanging his volleyball jacket and bag up on the pegs in the entryway.

Tobio rolls his eyes, following the orange whirlwind into the kitchen, where no doubt Hinata is pouring himself a glass of water to guzzle.

“What did you want?” he asks, after Hinata has, as predicted, downed a pint of water.

 _“Ahh!”_ Hinata gasps, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “I wanted to see you, stupid,” he says, avoiding Tobio’s eyes and washing his glass in the sink. Tobio kind of hates when he does this – a flyaway sentence with a smile, avoiding whatever it is that is _actually_ bothering him and usually switching the subject.

And as expected, Hinata does exactly that - blabbering something about homework and snagging Tobio’s hand so that he can tug him up to Tobio’s bedroom. Tobio twines his fingers around smaller ones and allows himself to be pulled, squinting at Hinata thoughtfully. He _wants_ to poke, but poking Hinata is always tricky.

So Tobio waits, until they’ve both struggled through enough homework that they both get bored, and Hinata’s chattered his fill about today’s practice sessions, until he’s content enough to just lounge on the bed with Tobio, slightly curled against his side. Tobio squints at him, takes in his slightly pensive face as his murmurings about blockers cease and folds a decisive arm around his waist, trapping his wiggly partner against his side.

Just so that he can’t run off.

“Are your parents not coming home tonight?” Hinata asks when he’s been captured – though he doesn’t seem to realise that this is what has happened – blithely flinging his own arm around Tobio’s stomach and resting his pointy chin on his chest.

“What did Takeda-sensei want?” Tobio asks instead.

There’s a brief lifting of pressure as Hinata raises his head, probably to pull a face at him, but Tobio has his head tipped up to stare at the ceiling so that he cannot see. There’s an annoyed puff of air and then Hinata is dropping his head back down onto Tobio’s chest, the weight of it causing Tobio to grunt as flyaway hairs tickle the bottom of his chin.

“The Brazil trip is all finalised,” Hinata says, after a long pause.

Tobio waits for him to continue and, when Hinata offers nothing further, he lifts his arm slightly to run the backs of his knuckles against Hinata’s back slowly in quiet encouragement.

He sometimes wonders how Hinata really, _honestly,_ feels about travelling halfway around the world for this endeavour.

All Hinata has really told him (once he finally _did_ tell him) is that he is going to train. That in beach volleyball you have to do everything, and that he is going to master it all, come back to Japan, and kick Tobio’s ass.

He had said half of this with a meat bun shoved in his mouth, but his eyes had been on fire all the same.

Tobio had swallowed his own meat bun, grunted his approval, and then the evening had continued on as normal, not a word said more. Yachi had thrown them a few searching gazes, worry softening her eyes, but neither of them had offered anything further.

Tobio approves of Hinata’s choice – he really, truly does. It’s a _good idea,_ and a large part of him swells a bit with pride that Hinata had actually thought of it all by himself. He just doesn’t know how Hinata _feels_ about it.

He doesn’t know, because Hinata never says.

“All the paperwork is filled out,” Hinata starts to say, slowly, against Tobio’s shirt. Tobio increases the pressure of his strokes against his back in silent response. “Like, where I’m going to stay and stuff, and all the final arrangements with Lucio-san. I’ve got to get a passport form and then we can apply for the visa… but after that it’s just booking the plane tickets.”

Hinata’s voice trails off and for a long while there’s only the soft sounds of the sheets rustling and Hinata’s shirt crinkling beneath Tobio’s knuckles.

“When do you do that?” Tobio asks eventually into the quiet. His throat feels awfully tight suddenly and he has no idea why.

“Well… I go a year after graduation, so… not until after school is done,” Hinata replies, sounding just as tight and awkward about it as Tobio feels. There’s a small, frustrated little sound that’s pressed against Tobio’s chest, and then Hinata rolling over and up – lifting himself from lying against Tobio’s side until he’s on all fours above him, limbs bracketing his head and hips.

“Kageyama,” he says, in _that_ voice, the demanding voice, the _‘toss to me’_ voice.

“Hmmm?”

“What do you want to do?” Hinata questions, his eyebrows furrowed down into a little knot. “A-about, u-ummm…”

Tobio digs his fingers into his side when he trails off. “About _what_ , dumbass.”

Hinata squirms away with an annoyed hiss and shoots a glare down at him, thumping a fist lightly against his shoulder. “About, you know, _us!”_

Confusion wells up in Tobio immediately, because what the fuck does _that_ mean? It must show in his face, because then Hinata is fiddling with the shirt fabric by his shoulder where he’d thumped him, his face all scrunched up and uncomfortable.

“Well, you know, you’re off doing _stuff_ next year-“ apparently voicing _‘playing in the V-League’_ is a still a little too bitter to say, “- and I’ll be training and then I’ll be _away,_ so…”

“… Oh.” Tobio has a sudden and immediate urge to throw Hinata off of his bed so that he can storm off and, and- fling a volleyball against a wall, or _hide_ maybe. Because that sounded an awful lot like Hinata wants this – this new, lovely thing where Tobio gets to be as close to Hinata as he wants – to just _end_ after high school, and chase something _else_ instead-

“Stop that,” Hinata chides, lowering his arms enough so that he can thunk his forehead against Tobio’s. Tobio growls irritably. “You’re spiralling off again.”

 _“You_ want to stop!” Tobio barks before he can stop himself, frustration bubbling up hot and sudden. He moves to buck Hinata off, but then his partner is kissing him, fast and lightning quick and saying:

“No I don’t.”

Tobio lies still and scowls. “You… don’t,” he repeats, disbelieving. Hinata rolls his forehead to and fro against Tobio’s and hums, and the motion is so silly that some of the heat in Tobio’s veins leaks slowly away.

“I want to be with you, stupid,” Hinata says simply. “It’s just- we’re going to be far apart, you know? Are you- is that… okay?”

“… Oh,” Tobio says for the second time that evening.

“Stop saying _‘oh’_!”

“I’m thinking!” Tobio retaliates, rocking his head hard enough that Hinata lifts his away with a huff.

Tobio stares at the strands of red hair that have fallen between Hinata’s brows to give himself something focus on instead of those displeased brown eyes. Hinata’s easy declaration of _‘I want to be with you’_ has managed to chase away all of the remaining irritation inside of Tobio - and yet it’s also caused that tightening in his throat to increase uncomfortably.

So he lies there, staring at the rumpled ginger hairs across Hinata’s forehead, and sucks in slow breaths until the iron vice in his throat eases just enough so that he can speak again.

“I’m already waiting, aren’t I?” he says, voice solid despite the stutter in his chest. “For you to keep up. Why can’t I wait for this too?”

Hinata blinks, the frown evaporating, and then it’s his turn to say, “… oh,” as he lets all his limbs go at once, flopping his full body weight against Tobio’s with a muffled _fwump._

Tobio grunts his complaint, loudly, because Hinata is still small but not _that_ small these days, and that had actually kind of hurt, but then Hinata is making a little sniffly noise into his shirt and his annoyance disappears like smoke.

“Hinata?” he prods, vaguely worried his boyfriend is going to do something terrible like _cry_ and then Tobio really will be at a complete loss.

“You have to use your phone,” Hinata says, voice smothered from where his face is still pressed against Tobio’s chest. “We actually have to have… phone calls and stuff.”

“Okay,” Tobio agrees, slowly, tentatively. He still finds talking over the phone to be horrendous, but if Hinata won’t be _here_ then it’ll be the closest thing he’ll have, and anything is better than nothing at all. But Hinata still isn’t looking at him and there’s something in his voice that rankles at Tobio’s nerves.

Hinata turns his head just enough that a sliver of his face can be seen. A glimpse of an annoyed pout crumpling his features as he avoids Tobio’s eye to squint into the middle distance instead.

“We’re going to have to, you know, _talk_ ,” he says, and there’s odd note in his tone that sounds like an accusation.

Abruptly, Tobio figures out what he’s vaguely alluding to, and feels actual anger rip down his spine. His core muscles tense and then he’s scooting back as far as he can on the bed, wrestling himself into a sitting position. Bewildered, Hinata sits up and off his chest, straddling his thighs with wide eyes.

“ _You_ didn’t say anything about next year either, remember?” Tobio spits, feeling his shoulders starting to bunch themselves up around his ears, his stomach twisting itself into hot little knots.

Because they’ve had this argument once before, a few short weeks before Hinata had kissed him in the gym and their relationship had changed forever.

An argument about how Tobio never mentioned his recruitment to the V-League, and how Hinata never spoke of his plans to go to Brazil for two years. They had both made these decisions in their second year and said nothing to each other, both seemingly content they were striding forwards to their shared goal.

Until they each found out from other people, both of them feeling the sting of betrayal.

They were both at fault, Tobio knows this. They had both made big decisions thinking the other would simply _understand_ , and they had both misjudged. But Tobio still feels like Hinata left him in the dark deliberately, no matter how hypocritical that might be. 

The day they’d finally found out, it had taken Yachi to force them into a room with a stern warning that she was not to help them with any more studying until they had talked about it. And they had. Sort of. Tobio had gone through his signing with the Schweiden Adlers – which is actually dependent on how well he did this year – and Hinata had gone through what comprised of his beach volleyball plans at the time.

“Yachi, we’ve talked!” Hinata had yelled then, thumping on the door for her to let them out.

Tobio personally felt like they had covered barely anything at all, but if Hinata was satisfied, then he supposed he was too.

At the time, that is.

At least they hadn’t been dating at that point – Tobio thinks he would’ve taken it far worse hearing his _boyfriend_ was planning on going abroad for two years instead of just his friend.

Hinata scowls down at Tobio’s bedsheets and plucks at them furiously, his anxious fingers belying his nerves.

Tobio bends his head and tries to pick out Hinata’s gaze, growling under his breath when Hinata won’t match him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Brazil?” he asks – demands – and his frustration overrides his nerves just enough to lace steel into his tone and force Hinata to finally look up.

“You didn’t tell _me_ about the V-League!” Hinata fires back, meeting his stare with petulant fire in his eyes.

Tobio clunks is head back against his bedroom wall with a snarl. They just keep going around in circles about this. “I thought it was obvious!” he says to the ceiling, raising his hands up in despair. “I’ve always been aiming to go pro, why was it such a shock?”

Because he really doesn’t understand; he’s never kept his aspirations hidden from Hinata. Even at the very beginning, back when they were just about teammates with only a burdening rivalry and a monstrous move holding them together, he’d made his goal clear. Hinata has always known this, but the whole plan with Brazil has been in motion in Hinata’s head since the end of _first year_ , and he never breathed a word of it.

When there’s no immediate response to his outburst, Tobio lowers his gaze down from the light fixing above to squint at his sulking boyfriend. Because that’s exactly what Hinata is doing – arms folded, face scrunched as he glares petulantly down at somewhere around Tobio’s navel.

“Oi,” Tobio grunts, jostling his legs a little where Hinata is still sitting on them to get his attention.

“It’s just-“ Hinata starts, before breaking off to gnaw at his lip as he fights for the words he wants. “We’re… _dating_ now,” he mumbles out through a pouting mouth, and a light flush bursts across his cheeks instantly.

Tobio feels his stomach go all gooey again.

“Aren’t we supposed to like, tell each other stuff?” Hinata asks, his sulking pout fading away slowly into an expression of genuine wonder as he tilts his head at Tobio curiously.

“I guess,” Tobio grunts in return, shuffling his shoulders idly.

It’s weird. When it comes to some things – about volleyball, mainly – talking to Hinata is incredibly easy. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to _say_ anything, because his partner just _gets it_ , but when he does it’s not like the words have ever been hard to find. But when it’s things like this – real things, _personal_ things, it’s all just so much harder to voice. It’s not that Tobio doesn’t _want_ to, it’s just hard to express himself.

“I find it hard too, you know,” Hinata says quietly, when neither of them speak for a while.

This time Tobio tilts his head, silently urging Hinata to continue.

Hinata fidgets and pulls at his own fingers until Tobio sighs and lifts his own so Hinata has something to latch onto. He’d picked up on Hinata’s restless habits early on – residual energy that left him with the constant need to _move._ It’s always worse when he’s anxious.

Hinata grabs on his hands seemingly without even realising it, tightening and relaxing his grip at irregular intervals.

“Sometimes…” he says eventually, slowly, like he’s considering each word as it comes out for a change, “Sometimes I think talking about… _big stuff_ like that is just hard, you know? Even when it’s you.”

Tobio has just enough time to register that it’s relief he’s feeling, this swoop of lightness that floods him and wrestles his hunched shoulders back down. Just knowing that Hinata finds this just as hard is-

But then Hinata is tugging away his hands abruptly and shoving his little finger in his face, looking serious.

“What are you-“

“We should promise,” Hinata declares, wiggling his pinkie.

Tobio almost goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. “Promise _what_ and why the fuck are you shoving your little finger in my-“

“It’s a pinkie swear, Kageyama!” Hinata says, as though this is obvious and Tobio is just being disastrously slow. “The most solemn of promises.”

“Do you even know what that word means-“

“Shut-up.” Hinata bobs his hand up and down. “Hook your pinkie around mine, dummy.”

Tobio sighs heavily, rolling his eyes, but he obediently hooks his little finger around Hinata’s. It’s stupidly childish, but Hinata will only whine if he doesn’t comply, so sometimes it’s just easier to follow along.

“I promise,” Hinata says clearly, once their fingers are hooked around each other, “to try harder to tell you stuff, if you tell me stuff.”

Tobio blinks at him.

Hinata raises his eyebrows at him expectedly and shakes their joined fingers.

“Err… I promise too?” Tobio tries, wondering if that’s what Hinata is angling for.

“Good!” Hinata declares, apparently appeased, releasing Tobio’s finger to place a smooch on his cheek with an obnoxious _‘mwah!’_

Tobio fidgets, embarrassed, and palms at his boyfriend to make him get off – which Hinata does, falling to Tobio’s side again with a giggle.

The mood seems to have lifted, so Tobio allows himself to wiggle back down until he’s fully horizontal on the bed again. Hinata doesn’t worm his way against his side this time, instead just lying on his back beside him, a warm length alongside Tobio’s body.

Tobio is just starting to notice (and get amused by) how much further his feet stretch down the length of the bed, when Hinata pipes up into the quiet:

“Kageyama?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Tobio turns his head so he can look at Hinata’s profile, finding big brown eyes staring back him hopefully.

“Yeah… if you want,” he says slowly, slightly confused.

Because his parents are often away, this is far from the first time Hinata will be staying over. He normally doesn’t even ask if he can – Tobio just sort of cottons on to his intentions when he stays longer than is probably acceptable to go biking over the mountain pass home.

Apparently Hinata’s mother is very laid back about it, because she never seems cross whenever Hinata decides these things seemingly on the fly.

Tobio has no time to ponder the out-of-place polite question, however, before Hinata is shooting him a wide, beaming smile, one of the ones that sends warmth spreading deliciously from Tobio’s head down to his toes.

Hinata reaches out then with greedy little hands, pulling at Tobio until he rolls onto his side. Worming his way closer across the bedsheets, Hinata kisses him – soft, small little things at first, before they slowly deepen with steadily increasing boldness.

Mattress springs creak as Tobio rolls his way across Hinata fully, so that he can cup his jaw and kiss him properly. He feels Hinata sigh, pleased, against him, slide one hand under his shirt across his back and hook one ankle over his calf. Tobio settles in a little closer, slips his tongue inside, and lets the kisses chase away any remnants of the earlier argument.

Even if Hinata has promised him the future, the future will be busy, and full of distance, so Tobio will take these precious moments of closeness wherever he can while he still has them.

* * *

It became a morning tradition, way back at the beginning of first year, to meet Hinata in the school grounds in the early morning. They would stare at each other as dawn starts to lighten the sky, throw down the invisible gauntlet, before pelting it towards the clubroom in a fierce race.

Sometimes, this couldn’t always happen. Maybe Hinata’s bike got a flat tyre, or Tobio got caught out by the rain, or both of them had something school related first thing.

So when Tobio arrives at the usual meeting spot, waits for ten minutes, and sees no Hinata, he sighs in defeat. He checks his phone briefly but there’s no message, not that he was really expecting one. Hinata only really texts him when he _wants_ something, not to announce things (unless he’s going to be busy for lunch.)

But Tobio can’t really fault him for it; he never texts Hinata things like this either.

_‘But we’re dating.’_

Hinata’s voice floats briefly in Tobio’s mind and he scowls, hunching his shoulders uncomfortably, and starts the slow trek to the clubroom by himself.

By Hinata’s own rule, he should have said something… but if Tobio were in his shoes, and it was his tyre that had popped (which is the most likely reason, Hinata has never overslept in his life) he doesn’t think he would send out a text either. So it’s stupid to get annoyed about it.

Resolute, and deciding to focus more on the sulking feeling of not having a morning race rather than the silent phone in his pocket, Tobio climbs the steps to the clubroom. He slips inside, barely noting the door is already unlocked (not unusual, he and Hinata were the last ones here last night and they often forget to lock up after them, much to Yamaguchi’s despair.) Changing swiftly, he’s down the steps and by the gym door before the sun has even finished rising.

It’s only when he plants his palm against the door that he notices that’s unlocked as well.

Which it never is unless someone is inside. They may forget to lock the clubroom, but never the gym. And even if they did, surely one of the groundskeepers would come along and fix it.

So, frowning, Tobio shoves open the door, and his brows furrow even further when he sees who is already in the middle of the gym.

It’s Hinata, of course. Because really, it couldn’t have been anyone else.

His boyfriend is spiking. Or at least, attempting to.

Tobio hovers in the doorway, the immediate urge to storm in and demand why Hinata is starting without him drowned out by sudden confusion. Because Hinata’s spikes aren’t really spikes. Not practised, smooth movements and accurate shots across the court.

He throws the balls up in the air, leaps, and hits them. But there is no co-ordination to his movements, no planning. His form is terrible, and half of the shots end up out of bounds or thwacking against the net. Stray balls litter around his feet – it seems that he has given up refilling the ball cart, simply grabbing the closest ball that rolls by him and throwing it up, slamming his hand against it a few seconds later.

Tobio takes in his face – his horribly scrunched, furious face – and snaps out of his reverie.

 _“Oi!”_ he shouts, once life returns to his limbs, storming through the door and letting it slam shut behind him.

Hinata stumbles at the sound of his voice, dropping the ball he was about to throw in his shock, head whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“What the hell is this?” Tobio demands, waving a hand around at the mess. Now that his surprise has worn off, frustration has swiftly replaced it – soon to be anger, if Hinata doesn’t have a good explanation. Arriving even earlier than he already does to practice on his own is one thing (even if it made Tobio’s toes curl) but this isn’t even _practice._ This is just sloppy. Hinata should know _better_ than this-

Hinata doesn’t reply at first, just bends and scoops up the ball he had dropped and spins it idly between his palms. He still looks angry, but now that Tobio has stalked closer, he can see the anger isn’t really aimed at him, or the ball.

It’s one of those faces Hinata makes when he’s been trying to do something new and it isn’t working. Maybe a new block, or switching up his timing, or sometimes something completely unrelated to volleyball. Some homework he doesn’t understand, or trying to deal with classmates that are bothering him. It’s how he looks when he’s frustrated and scrabbling to find the solution.

Anger at himself then.

Tobio squints at him for a little while longer before sighing, some of his annoyance deflating. “Hinata?” he prompts.

“I’m-“ Hinata starts to say, but when he raises his head and meets Tobio’s eye, he falters. Like he was going to say something and then thought better of it.

Tobio suspects he was going to claim he was practicing, and thought – correctly – that Tobio would call him out on the lie.

“… I just really wanted to hit some balls,” Hinata says at last, after a moment’s pause to think. He spins the ball between his palms again. “Remember back in first year? When we lost to Seijoh?”

“Yes?”

“And we ran around in the gym yelling?”

“… Yes?”

“It’s like that.”

Tobio knits his brow in a different way – out of befuddlement rather than annoyance. They had ran around screaming because they had lost and needed an outlet to deal with the build-up of frustration and uselessness and failure that had filled their bodies. Some way to exhaust the energy that was stifling them so that they could move forward.

But they haven’t even lost recently. Their last practice game with Dateko went very well. Hinata in particular hadn’t been playing in a way Tobio would ever say was bad – his mistakes were minimal, his progress noted in small ways as the team found their footing with the new team members. As far as Tobio is concerned, Hinata has no real reason to feel _this_ frustrated.

“Hey, can I stay at yours again?”

Tobio blinks back into the moment at the sudden question, swivelling to look at Hinata.

His boyfriend’s expression has morphed – from one of self-directed anger to a hopeful one. Big brown eyes stare up at him, a little dimmer than usual but still shiny, as Hinata starts to bend and gather up the scattered volleyballs on the court.

“If you want…” Tobio replies slowly, not moving to help, instead choosing to watch warily as Hinata continues his clear up.

It had been a week since Hinata had walked off with Takeda-sensei to discuss his plans for next year. And almost every day, he had stayed at Tobio’s. Sometimes he asked, sometimes he didn’t. Either following Tobio to his house and staying a little too long, or requesting to stay while practice was still happening.

Tobio doesn’t mind. He likes it – having Hinata there to fill the spaces in his house when it was too quiet, having someone to wrap himself around and fall asleep with. Hinata is loud and annoying and stops Tobio’s mind from wandering and then makes it extra sweeter at the end of the day when he grows tired and needy for kisses.

It’s like an ongoing bonus. Hinata in his space, being his usual bright and irritating self, that takes up all of Tobio’s attention and steers it away from anything dark and meandering. And then, just as they both start to get sleepy, Hinata turns into a warm ball of affection, which is something Tobio is still getting used to. It’s nice, it’s _definitely_ nice, the kisses and the closeness under the bed covers and the hands which are just starting to wander.

And it’s been extra nice, getting to experience that so often recently, letting himself become a little more comfortable each time.

But he does wonder why Hinata is so keen to stay.

Tobio would be willing to write it off as Hinata just wanting his company, if it wasn’t for that dull sheen to his eyes.

“You can stay,” Tobio says, lifting his voice higher as Hinata starts straying away further from him to collect the more distant balls, dropping them into the ball cart intermittently as he darts around. “If you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Hinata nearly drops his little tower of balls, blinking at him with wide eyes. He just about manages to tip them into the cart before he makes another mess and visibly composes himself before he turns back to face Tobio, the picture of faux innocence.

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You were hitting volleyballs before the sun rose,” Tobio grunts back, planting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow. “Without me.”

“I was just…” Hinata’s eyes drop down and away, and he starts fiddling with the fabric of the ball cart idly. “Venting. That’s all.”

“Why?” Tobio presses, feeling some of the earlier irritation start to flicker again.

Hinata stuffs a hand in his hair – getting long now, starting to curl over his ears – and ruffles it, the orange strands glinting under the gym’s artificial lighting.

Even at his current distance, Tobio can see Hinata’s jaw working. Where he is either biting his lip, or gnawing the inside of his cheek. Some nervous, twitchy manoeuvre that always acts up when he’s anxious and doesn’t want to say anything.

Getting words out of Hinata can be surprisingly difficult when he doesn’t want to share them. His body, however, always an open book.

“ _You_ said _‘we’re dating’_ ,” Tobio points out, voice gruff. He strides forward until he’s up close, crowding into Hinata’s space. Hinata doesn’t move, just raises his chin in silent challenge and Tobio meets it by waving his pinkie finger in his face. “ _You_ wanted to do the stupid finger promise thing. So you can’t just clam up now. Spill it.”

Hinata crosses his eyes over glaring at the finger by his nose. “It’s called a _pinkie swear_ , Kageyama-“

“Whatever!” Tobio snaps, feeling his patience starting to fray. “Something’s pissed you off and we haven’t doing badly during practice or our matches so-“

“Even my receives were good?” Hinata interrupts, looking hopeful again.

“… Adequate,” Tobio grits out, after a moment. He’s tempted to say no, out of habit and also to encourage Hinata to keep working on them, but he knows now is the time to give Hinata just a little leeway, not push him. If he wants an answer, he needs to sweeten his mood first. “Now spill it, or you can’t stay.”

“… Meanie,” Hinata mutters, childishly. He drops his gaze again, staring sightlessly at the floor before he sighs, as if in defeat. Reaching out, he loops his fingers loosely around Tobio’s, his grip light as he gently pulls. Tobio follows willingly, curiosity peaking again as his boyfriend leads them to the side of the gym.

Hinata grabs his water bottle along the way, reaches the wall, and drops Tobio’s hand to spin in a little circle until his back thunks against it. Then he slides down, in a smooth yet ungraceful descent to sit cross legged on the floor, taking a sip from his bottle.

Tobio follows suit, sitting down and against the wall, though he opts to plant his feet flat on the floor instead, leaning his forearms on top of his knees.

Eventually, Hinata finishes his drink, caps his bottle, and then runs his fingers over the plastic before he mutters, quiet and almost bitterly, “Dad’s back for a week. And it’s just… annoying, at the moment. So being with my boyfriend is nicer, that’s all.”

Quietly, Tobio takes this in and then frowns up at the ceiling, trying to remember if at any point Hinata had complained about his father in any way before now. The man works in another city, Tobio is fairly sure, somewhere around Osaka maybe. He comes back infrequently for visits in between work – Hinata had sometimes bemoaned not able to play volleyball on the weekends because of this, but he’d never seemed upset to _see_ his father. He’d seemed excited, in fact. Even if he couldn’t play.

“And you’re… fighting…?” Tobio guesses, simply grasping at straws. There’s never been a problem before, it must be something new.

Hinata twists his water bottle around, fingers tightening over the plastic in a fit of frustration. “He hates the idea of me going to Brazil,” he finally spits out, his glare quickly becoming closer to a pout. He squeezes his bottle a few more times, before he rams it into his mouth, sucking on it furiously.

Tobio waits impatiently until he finishes drinking again.

“He _hates_ it?” he clarifies, once Hinata has lowered his bottle.

Hinata lets out a thoughtful noise between his teeth, tilting his head this and way that, as if reconsidering his own declaration. “He’s not… _mad_ ,” he says slowly, like he’s working out the situation for the first time.

“He just… doesn’t understand,” Hinata says finally, his tone a little off. Like he’s caught between being disappointed and getting angry all over again.

Tobio lifts one of his forearms so he can rest his chin on his fist. “He doesn’t like the sports career choice?” he guesses, as realisation starts to form. He’s lucky – thanks to… to Kazuyo-san, his own parents are not dismissive of a career in sports. But he’s heard from other people – from some of their underclassmen, from other players during training camps, who’ve mentioned in passing their parents not being fully supportive of the professional athlete route.

“He doesn’t think it’s ‘stable enough’,” Hinata confirms, tapping his bottle against the floor as his restless energy starts to build up. “Which is stupid – lots of jobs aren’t a sure thing!”

Tobio hums to show his agreement, and then grabs onto this thread that’s unravelling. Hinata doesn’t really talk about himself that much, but this is his family. He should open up about them at least, and then Tobio can figure out the problem before Hinata ends up in some sort of rut.

“What did your Mum and Natsu say when you talked it over with them?”

“Talked it over?”

“Yeah… when you discussed it?”

“Oh. We didn’t really, I just told them at dinner,” Hinata says, as though he were announcing his weekend plans or his latest test scores, and not his decision to emigrate for two years. “Natsu was kind of jealous, I think, because she just wants to do something cool too, but Mum seemed okay with it. Bit shocked at first, I guess, but it’s not like I haven’t told her what I wanted to do before. She calmed down pretty quickly though when I told her Takeda-sensei and Coach and Washijo-san were all helping me.”

Tobio’s chin nearly slips off of his hand at Hinata’s easy declaration of his plans. Oh to be that carefree, he wonders vaguely, or just that sure of yourself, perhaps. Shaking himself a little, he sits up a little straighter. “Well that’s two people for it, so what’s his problem?”

“It’s kind of… Mum’s fault, I think…” Hinata says slowly, looking almost embarrassed. Like he felt bad about blaming his mother. “She doesn’t _mean_ to, but she has a bad habit of not mentioning to him when me and Natsu don’t do well at something. It’s always ‘Shouyou did well in gym!’ and not mentioning I failed a maths test or ‘Natsu got featured in the school paper for her art project!’ and not how she was late often enough that she got a warning. And it’s nice, don’t get me wrong, not having all the bad things aired out, but I think sometimes Dad lives with… false impressions of us maybe.”

“So…” Tobio says, taking a pause to process this. “He knows you _play_ volleyball, but only hears that? Like it’s just a club activity?”

“Yep,” Hinata replies, bobbing his head hard enough that his hair bounces. “Like he hears we do well and stuff, but he only attributes that to looking good on a college application. The whole ‘I want to go professional’ thing seems to have slipped right by him. So he just… wants me to go to college, get a nice office job and forget volleyball because it’s _‘just a pipe dream.’_ ”

“Is that what he told you?” Tobio demands, suddenly incredibly irritated. Surely the man could see Hinata wouldn’t be getting this much help to go abroad – from another school’s coach no less - if he isn’t deserving of it, at least?

Hinata grinds his water bottle against the hardwood floor. “He doesn’t… _get_ volleyball,” he says, voice surly and moody. “He just thinks it’s a bunch of tall guys smacking a ball over the net. So when me and Mum were telling him about Brazil… he thought it was just for life experience. Like I was just going abroad to work and ‘broaden my horizons’ and when I said it was for volleyball he just… got pissed off. Thinks it’s a waste of time for no guarantees.”

Tobio opens his mouth to say something, possibly loud and inappropriate, and then forcibly shuts it again, hard enough that his teeth clack together. No matter what thoughts he is currently thinking, and how much Hinata might even agree with them right now, it’s also entirely possible his boyfriend will get annoyed if he voices them.

So he looks back over at Hinata, who is still rubbing his bottle over the floor in an agitated need of something to do. He gets it. It’s frustrating enough for Hinata, who hears he’s too short for the sport he loves from people already playing it, but to hear it from someone who knows nothing about volleyball at all… that had to be even more frustrating than it normally is.

“But you’re still going right?” Tobio checks, just to make sure, and also the steer the conversation away to something more positive.

“Of course!” Hinata exclaims, almost dropping his bottle. “It’s just… every time I come home he’s got college leaflets and career opportunity fliers out and wants to _talk_ about it. I know he means well and everything but I don’t-“

“I know,” Tobio interrupts, panic starting to spark in his chest at the slight choked quality to Hinata’s voice. It’s borne of frustration, not true upset, he knows, but he still wants to put in a stopper in it regardless. So he shuffles close, until they’re pressed side by side, and loops an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. Stuffing his hand into his hair, he ruffles it roughly, dragging his head down onto his shoulder. “I know, stupid.”

Hinata whines at the rough treatment but doesn’t squirm away, just grouses irritably into Tobio’s shoulder.

Tobio waits until Hinata’s muscles have relaxed and the grumbling stops before he loosens his grip and slumps against the wall again. Hinata stays flopped against his side. “You can stay later,” he says into the now quiet, because that is Hinata’s reward after all.

“Thanks,” Hinata mumbles into his shirt, still sounding a little sour.

Tobio almost wants to lurch to his feet then, shove Hinata off him and start their early morning practice session before they run out of time and everyone else arrives. But also Hinata is warm and he’s comfortable, so he opts to stay seated, just for a little bit longer. And then, just as the mood starts to lift, the awkwardness of the earlier conversation fading away, Tobio finds his mouth opening before he realises it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Brazil?”

The question is out before he can stop it, and then Hinata is sitting up straight and whirling, his grumpy expression quickly flaring into anger. “ _You_ didn’t-“

“You told your family,” Tobio interrupts, before Hinata can pin this all on him all over again. His side feels so cold suddenly. “And even when you found out about the V-League you _still_ didn’t say anything - I had to find out from other people!”

Hinata clacks his mouth shut, and sits there fuming silently, a little ball of flame.

And then, bit by bit, the fire starts to flicker, fade, until it dims, and Hinata seems to wilt in front of him. His face is a mixture of things, none of which Tobio can really discern. Not sad, but not angry either. Not really embarrassed… uncomfortable? And then Hinata is trying to turn away, hide his face behind his water bottle and Tobio loses his patience.

He leans in, and mashes his forehead against Hinata’s. There’s a brief tussle, where Hinata tries to grab at his head to push him off, and Tobio snatches his wrists to stop him. It results in a lot of rocking on the floor, until eventually Hinata stops trying to strain his neck pulling his head away and Tobio links their fingers together so that his hands are captured.

Hinata snarls out a little growl, crossing his eyes over so he can glare at Tobio where their heads are still mushed together.

Tobio crosses his own eyes and glares back, challenging.

“It wasn’t as cool, okay!” Hinata bursts out, his frustration finally loosening his voice.

“What does that _mean?”_ Tobio shouts back, and Hinata squirms hard enough in his grasp that he lets go, letting his boyfriend scoot back a bit.

Hinata doesn’t answer right away, of course, just sits across from him, starting to pick at the threads of his t-shirt with anxious fingers.

Tobio sighs, loud and long, and reaches out to grab them, holding them gently with his own.

Almost subconsciously, Hinata winds his fingers around his, squeezing and pulling intermittently. It helps sometimes, Tobio has noticed, to give Hinata something to ground himself with – something to stop his mind spinning away as his energy builds up with no release.

“You’re going into the V-League,” Hinata eventually says. And it sounds like he’s trying his hardest to not to sound sulky, but his voice is still surly regardless. “Into Division _One_. And I’m… going to _train._ It just didn’t sound as… impressive.”

There’s a brief moment, where Tobio isn’t sitting in front of Hinata at all, he’s standing in front of him, in a practice tabard in the middle of a practice game. Where Hinata’s reluctant voice telling Nishinoya-san he’s _just a decoy_ is rattling in his ears as jealousy plays out all over his partner’s face. Where Tobio is yelling, in front of everybody, how cool a decoy is, and how Hinata shouldn’t have any reason to be jealous over something he shouldn’t be chasing for in the first place.

He blinks, and returns to the present.

The situation is not the same. Hinata isn’t chasing after a place on the court he shouldn’t be, he’s chasing after professional success. After Tobio.

But equally, it’s all exactly the same.

“So you didn’t tell me because you were _embarrassed_ about your good idea?” Tobio questions, and feels Hinata’s grip on his fingers tighten suddenly.

Hinata’s face goes from pissed off - out of reflex, no doubt - to confused, and then to somewhat hopeful, as he processes Tobio’s sentence.

“Because it is!” Tobio goes on, feeling his voice getting louder as the fire ignites in his belly and forces the words from his chest. “A good idea! You have to do everything in beach volleyball right? Serves, receives, blocks, spikes… and there’s no positions, so you have to be good at everything. Which is what you need, because you _suck!”_

“I do _not_ suck-!”

“And it pisses me off that you managed to get such a good idea in your head all by yourself!” Tobio rants, cutting off the protest before it could even begin. “Because this is perfect for you, it’s the best way to train and it pisses me off even _more_ that you think it’s not _cool enough_. What’s the point of staying here if you’re not going to get anywhere? You _promised_ -“

“You think it’s a good idea?” Hinata barrels in, voice even louder, borderline a scream in the empty gym. His eyes are huge and pudding brown, almost glowing gold as he stares at Tobio hopefully.

 _“Yes!”_ Tobio sighs, exasperated. “And you better not ruin it by doing something stupid like wasting your time messing around on the beach or getting heat stroke or-“

“I’m not going to!” Hinata yells back, but his voice is suddenly so bright and happy with a smile bursting forth that Tobio finds his own voice falling dead silent. “I’m going come back a champion, and then I’m going to kick your ass.”

Tobio harrumphs, and promptly sticks both his hands into Hinata’s hair to rumple and pull at the strands. “You better cut this mop,” he growls, but he can’t stop his own grin from tugging its way across his face. “Or you won’t be able to see the ball.”

Hinata stuffs both his fingers into Tobio’s sides, right where he knows he’s ticklish, the little _cheater,_ before he darts forwards, and kisses him.

Both their hands still, and Tobio feels himself melt, all the tension ebbing away and he tilts his head just so, opening his mouth to invite Hinata in-

“Gonna throw some serves at me?” Hinata says suddenly, pulling away.

Tobio sits for a second, his mouth hanging open like a dumb fish.

But Hinata is up and on his feet, dashing towards the ball cart before he can say anything, or have time to feel suitably embarrassed. So he launches up, tearing after his stupid, _stupid_ partner, and grabs the ball cart where it’s pushed towards him, wheels squeaking across the hardwood floor. The first ball is up in the air just as Hinata scrambles into position.

It’s probably not smart, leaping straight into jump serves before he’s warmed up properly, but Tobio can really resonate with Hinata’s need to just hit a ball sometimes. He’s gotten his answers, but getting them was still just so _frustrating-_

His palm hits leather, and the ball soars, streaking through the air and over the net, right into Hinata’s waiting arms. It careens up, but at the wrong angle, and it shoots right back over the net. A perfect chance ball, if this were a real game.

“Hah! That wasn’t bad!” Hinata cheers, apparently satisfied with that.

“It went to the other team, moron!” Tobio yells back, and grabs for another ball.

By the tenth ball, it finally arcs correctly, if a bit low for a perfect follow-up set.

“That was a nice receive,” Hinata needles, just as voices start to echo through the gym windows. The rest of the team are starting to arrive.

“I’m not fully warmed up,” Tobio sniffs, and snickers under his breath when Hinata squawks at the injustice.

* * *

Tobio will probably never admit it, because he wants to always keep going, because he wants to _win_ , but he is going to, without question or doubt, _miss this_.

His feet are moving before the ball even finishes its ascent, bumped up by Hinata’s waiting forearms. The arc is almost perfect, straight to his position, and ready to be set without Tobio needing to rush or overcorrect. But Hinata’s knee is brushing the floor, forced there by poor footing, and so, as cool as the receive looks, it is not perfect.

But perfection can wait, as even with a knee to the ground, Hinata has more than enough time to scramble upright and leap, just as Tobio sets the ball right back to him. Hinata’s palm smacks against the leather and it soars, straight over the net and slamming into the other team’s court before anybody can blink.

Hinata lands and stumbles. Tobio pants wildly, waiting. The referee’s whistle sounds – splitting the air – and the game, their _final_ game, ends.

It’s bittersweet. They lost in the semi-finals, and so their high school career ends without ever winning Spring Nationals, but even so. Leaving on a win – albeit a win to decide third place – is just about good enough, Tobio supposes.

Most of their teammates fall to their knees when the whistle sounds, exhausted and sobbing out their joy. Tsukishima manages to stay upright for all of thirty seconds before Yamaguchi and Yachi are crashing into his back, the three of them stumbling into a heap. Tobio stands there – knees only just holding steady – and feels his lungs strain with the effort of catching his breath, the slam of his heart against his ribcage. The thrill of victory is just starting to hum in his veins, but for the most part, he feels like he’s been stuffed with cotton.

This had been his _last_ high school game.

He’ll never play with this team again. He’ll never wear this jersey again.

_“Kageyama.”_

Tobio has just enough time to lift his weary head before there’s a smaller body crashing into his front. Hinata has lost all energy for coordination, all but flopping into Tobio’s sweat slick arms and grabbing at his jersey with messy hands.

They don’t normally hug after games, regardless of their relationship status off the court. They’re just too wound up with competitive energy for it. But now, as the weight of the moment settles over them, there’s nothing Tobio wants to do more than wrap himself around his partner. So he winds his arms around Hinata’s shoulders and drags him closer, the pair of them shuddering with the effort to remain standing, and presses his face into the side of Hinata’s, so that he can press discreet kisses to his temple.

“Did you see my receive?” Hinata mumbles, but the tone is different than usual. Quiet, soft.

“You dropped your knee,” Tobio says, aiming for the familiar, even if he is too tired to inject any force into his voice.

Hinata hums against him, in a way that sounds neither like he’s agreeing or annoyed, and Tobio hesitates before squeezing him back tighter.

They won. They won their last game with _their move._

In this moment, nothing else really matters.

* * *

“People were watching you, you know.”

Hinata swivels his head to look up at him, eyes questioning.

In the brief reprieve before they have to attend their final team meeting, they stand at the edge of the court – the _orange_ court – to have one final moment with it. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are standing off by another corner, huddled close together, their heads bowed in respect. Yachi clutches her notebook and stares at the net that’s still strung up, eyes shining with unshed tears, before dropping into a trembling bow.

Tobio stretches out his fingers until they just brush Hinata’s, keeping his gaze on the court and the people surrounding it. He’s not brave enough to reach for his hand fully, not in a huge, public space like this, but it seems neither is Hinata. Fingertips brush him back, before Hinata settles for linking their pinkie fingers together.

“I think they were scouts,” Tobio continues, when he feels Hinata’s gaze continue to drill into him.

Hinata lets out a thoughtful hum and Tobio flicks his eyes down to look back at him. His expression is… complicated.

“The wrong ones though,” Hinata says eventually, and he coils his little finger a little tighter around Tobio’s.

“Could be Division Two,” Tobio offers, watching Hinata carefully.

He’s not completely stupid. He knows what scouts look like, he’s had their own eyes on him not too long ago, and he had spotted more than one person watching Hinata during their games. How they’d pointed and taken notes and conferred with their colleagues. But he also knows, because he knows how this sport _works_ , that they aren’t from the level Hinata wants, that he’s striving for, so he holds his breath, and waits for Hinata’s response.

“Division Three probably,” Hinata says, but he doesn’t sound self-deprecating at all. He sucks in a breath through his nose and puffs out his chest. “And even if it was Two… that’s not good enough.”

Some of the tension eases out of Tobio’s body. “No?”

“I’m not settling.” Hinata looks back up at him, his eyes on fire. He’s tired, still utterly exhausted from their gruelling game, but his smile is no less dim for it. “I want Division One.”

Tobio snorts and drops Hinata’s pinkie. Loops an arm around his shoulders and pulls him roughly against his side, stuffs his free hand into his hair and playfully tugs the ginger waves. “Good,” he declares, feeling a smirk burst across his face.

Hinata wiggles against his side, but it’s half-hearted, and he ends just grabbing at Tobio’s sides rather than successfully shoving him away.

Tobio flops his head over, resting it on top of Hinata’s and using him as a handy prop for his tired body as he lets relief wash over him in waves. He does worry, just a tiny bit, just on occasion, that Hinata will get too disheartened by the mountain he’s set himself to climb. It’d be so easy for him to settle for something lower. For a lower a league, for a decent college team. Most people in Hinata’s shoes would.

But Hinata is different, and Hinata wants the stars.

Tobio hopes he never ever stops wanting them.

“When you get back,” he says, just loud enough for Hinata to hear him and nobody else, “what are you going to do?”

He _means_ Hinata’s plan. His first steps when he gets back from Brazil with a whole new kind of training under his belt. But instead of answering straight away, Hinata stops squirming underneath him to just shove himself free instead, matching Tobio’s smirk with one of his own – sharp and vicious and fearsome. It sends shivers ripping delightfully down Tobio’s spine.

“Blow them all away.”

* * *

“Aha!”

Hinata lets out a little whoop of glee as the ball lands on his side of the ‘court’ – the lines drawn in their heads, as neither of them could be bothered to put the net up – and rolls away to where their graduation diplomas have been left in the corner.

“Now _that_ was a nice receive!”

Tobio watches it go with a little frown. It _had_ been a nice receive, admittedly; it had landed in the setter’s position, had a lovely curve… but at this point Tobio makes it a point not to say anything. There is still, of course, room for improvement. Hinata wouldn’t want half-baked praises.

“Well I am in uniform,” he sniffs, straightening and glancing over at the ball cart, wondering whether he should fetch another one.

_“What!”_

Tobio gestures at himself at the enraged squawk. “I can’t serve properly in this,” he explains, waving at his starchy school clothes. Of course his serve was off-

“I’m in uniform _too_ doofus!” Hinata snaps back, a little ball of outrage on the other side of the imaginary court. “Go again!” he demands, already scuttling for the ball where it’s rolled to a stop.

Tobio catches it in his palms when it’s bounced towards him and looks down at it, focuses on the feel of the leather between his hands, suddenly lost in thought.

Neither of them had had to say anything earlier once they’d received their diplomas. One exchange of eye contact and they were gone, abandoning the celebrations and sneaking away directly to the gym. Hinata was already in position by the time Tobio had a ball in his hands.

Somebody might come looking for them later – Yachi, perhaps, or Yamaguchi – but for now this moment is all theirs.

“Kageyama?”

Tobio’s head snaps up and he starts, surprised, when he finds Hinata standing right in front of him. He hadn’t even heard him come over – and he’s still wearing his school shoes, which are louder on hardwood than his volleyball ones.

“You okay?” Hinata asks, tilting his head. It causes the long strands of his fringe to hang in his eyes; he really needs to cut it. “You were spacing out.”

“Oh,” Tobio blinks. He hadn’t realised. He spins the ball between his palms idly. It just feels… strange, knowing that this is the last time, for a very _long_ time, that he’ll get to play with Hinata. It’s not even because how busy they both will be, it’s more-

“After this… I’m not going to play with you again,” he finds himself saying, the words tumbling forth without any conscious thought, “until you’re a pro too.”

Hinata doesn’t reply and Tobio clenches his hands around the volleyball, briefly panicking that was entirely the wrong thing to say, before finally meeting Hinata’s eyes.

“Good!” Hinata chirps, the beginnings of a huge smile stretching across his face, eyes dancing happily. “The next time we’ll play it’ll be in a big stadium!” he declares, spreading his arms out wide. “And then I’ll win of course!”

Tobio snorts, feeling a matching smile of his own start to blossom. Hinata beams back, buoyant and bouncing in his happiness, almost vibrating on the spot as he starts to move back to the other end of their court.

“Hey,” Tobio calls before he can get too far. Hinata cocks his head. “You _did_ want high school to end, right?”

“Huh?” Hinata turns fully, facing Tobio properly and planting his hands on his hips, a bemused little frown replacing his smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Remember the beginning of the year? When you were just staring into the prize cabinet by the vice principal’s office?”

Hinata’s frown becomes a little pout as he starts to think, tapping his chin as he wracks his brain. “Kinda?” he offers, still sounding baffled. “Why would you think I didn’t want to finish high school though?”

“You said,” Tobio breaks off to wet his lips, “you said you wanted to do it more.”

Hinata drops his hand from his chin and folds his arms, fixing Tobio with a golden eyed stare. Tobio does his best not to shiver. “Well... yeah. It was our _last_ year. Our last year at _Karasuno_ … with Yacchan and Yamaguchi and even Tsukki! And everyone else! I wanted to play as much as we could, do _more_ than last year, than _both_ of last years! I wanted to…” he pauses, clenching his hands around his forearms, “finish on a high note. Didn’t you?”

“… Yeah,” Tobio says quietly, sagging slightly in relief. He had been worried – just a tiny bit – that Hinata had gotten too comfortable. Too happy in this high school volleyball team with the same people beside him every day, with _Tobio_ beside him every day, and how that might’ve caused a problem from tomorrow morning, the first day on his own.

“And we did!” Hinata says, continuing on his train of thought. He wanders back over to Tobio, but not meeting his eye, staring up at the gym ceiling as he speaks. “Third in all of Japan… Takeda-sensei says that’s the highest Karasuno has ever gotten on the national stage.”

Tobio hums. “But it’s not gold, is it?”

Hinata sighs, but it’s a satisfied one, not melancholic. “Nope!” He drops his eyes down from the ceiling above and meets Tobio’s with another fierce grin.

“Toss to me?”

“Don’t you need to work on your receives?” Tobio squints.

Hinata’s grin softens into something warmer, something affectionate. “It’s the last time I get to play with you,” he says, voice gooey soft, “so toss to me.”

Tobio smirks and throws the ball into Hinata’s waiting hands.


	2. ... I Will Win

Distance is hard.

Training for professional volleyball is so different compared to high school. It’s longer, harder, and requires more of Tobio’s concentration than anything he’s ever done. He cannot deny that he loves it. It’s the push, the challenge he’s always wanted, has always sought after. It makes his muscles burn with exhaustion and itch for more.

But of course, it isn’t all plain sailing. There are so many strangers and so many logistics to playing volleyball for a job that Tobio hadn’t been completely prepared for. Some days, he feels like his head’s in a spin, dizzy from everything he has to process that isn’t just _playing_.

He has a couple of saving graces. Ushijima-san had joined the team the year before he did, and although the man is quiet, almost disconcertingly so, he’s at least one area of familiarity. Tobio finds it startlingly easy to find a comradery with him, considering how the last time they spoke was after a high school game over two years ago. Ushijima-san is quiet and serious, but he gently points things out to him when Tobio feels like confusion is fogging his brain to the point where he can’t see.

Miwa also helps where she can. Neither of them had called much while Tobio was still in school, and he’s not sure whether it’s from guilt or just her _knowing_ how different adult life is once you graduate, but Miwa phones him often now. It’s… useful, if a little new to him. She helps him with decisions, forwards ideas of where to rent a flat in Tokyo, where the Adlers are based. Helps him find his footing on the slippery ladder that is adulthood.

And so, Tobio is often so busy, trying to juggle so many things he never had to even consider before, that he doesn’t always notice the hole by his side.

But there are moments, scattered and poignant, where Tobio misses Hinata _so much_ that it aches.

When he’s rushing for the ball during a game, every instinct in his body preparing to send it to Hinata, in a habit he just can’t squash. When the coach says something he doesn’t quite understand and he glances down, ready to exchange a confused look with someone that just isn’t there. When he’s walking home and the sound of chattering by his side is noticeably absent.

In these moments, Tobio’s chest pangs, as he forcibly stops himself from looking around, searching for someone who simply isn’t here right now.

It doesn’t help that he’s not spoken to Hinata properly in what feels like weeks; they’re both terrible at using their phones it seems.

In fairness, they are both busy, busier than they’ve ever been in their lives.

Hinata too, is trying to juggle his new beach volleyball schedule around a couple of other projects – indoor volleyball classes for kids, a part time job, everything and anything to help him prepare before he leaves for Brazil.

They’re both struggling to simply _find time_ in amongst their days which just feel so full now.

They start with text messages, scattered and often sent at inopportune times for the other to reply. Then there’s the phone calls which one of them inevitably cannot answer, and there’s a terrible back and forth where they each try to call the other back and just keep _missing_ each other.

Tobio hates it. He cannot help feeling like Hinata is going to get fed up. That he’s going to give up with this constant back and forth, his declaration that he wanted to be with Tobio be dammed, and just focus on his training. Say he’ll see Tobio in two years, three years, on some court in the future and leave it at that.

The anxiety builds steadily, until one evening, the very first evening for weeks where he doesn’t have to _do something_ , Tobio snaps.

He’s still living in his family home, but he’s due to move soon, and this is possibly his last opportunity to see Hinata before an hours long train ride comes along to further complicate everything. Hinata is still living at home too, and it’s ridiculous, almost, how they are both technically so close but just never _see_ each other.

Tobio’s gone from having Hinata in his house several times a week, in his bed at night and there when he wakes up, to absolutely nothing at all, not even his voice, and when he has time to dwell on it he hates it so much he wants to scream.

So he throws himself on his bike and pedals furiously for Hinata’s house at the first opportunity. He has no idea if Hinata is home – he could be out training, or at his job, or doing one of the hundred other things that adult life demands of him. Tobio _could_ call, but he’s not certain he’ll get an answer, so he settles for this last gasp attempt instead. He just wants to _see Hinata_ , and if he’s not there… well. He can wait. For a little bit. Maybe Natsu will keep him company.

And then, by some small miracle, once he reaches the mountainside road where Hinata’s house lies, his breath punching in and out of his lungs in furious breaths, it’s to see Hinata himself, chaining his own bike by the fence outside of his front door.

“Kageyama?”

Hinata’s head snaps up at the sound of Tobio’s bike approaching, and he does a double take when he sees who’s astride it. “What are you doing here?”

Tobio takes a moment to catch back the rest of his breath, licks his lips, and then staggers off of his bike.

“You never answer your phone!” he all but shouts, stamping wildly at his bike’s kickstand. It refuses to lever down, and, immensely frustrated, he simply throws the whole thing to the ground, the clatter of jangling metal piercing through the evening air. “ _You_ said we have to talk, that we have to use our phones and you never answer or you call me in the middle of the damn day and-“

He’s cut off by a small body barrelling into him, crashing into his chest and robbing him of his breath and his words.

Tobio staggers under Hinata’s weight as his boyfriend throws himself into his arms, squeezing him around the middle so tightly Tobio fears he might leave bruises.

“Don’t yell at _me!”_ Hinata yells into Tobio’s chest. “You’re just as bad! You never reply to messages either, and you always call when I’m working-“

Eager for revenge and for contact, Tobio crushes Hinata close to him, stopping the arguing rant before it can really get going.

They stand there for a long moment, each trying to break each other’s ribs from the force of how tightly they hold each other, under the pitiful illumination from the one lone streetlamp, until eventually the evening wind blows and they shiver, pulling apart just a bit.

“Come on,” Hinata says, his voice caught between slightly choked and gaining that squeak it gets when he’s really excited about something, “I don’t know how you’ve managed it, but I’m the only one home at the moment. Mum and Natsu should be back later, but not until late… they went to go see my aunt.”

Tobio half pays attention to Hinata’s babbling as his hand is captured and he’s dragged to the front door. He’s content to let the sound of Hinata’s voice wash over him, not really listening to the individual words, as he’s pulled through the corridors of Hinata’s house and into his room, the door sliding shut behind them.

It’s only when Hinata clicks the light on that Tobio notices his boyfriend’s appearance – workout clothes, he’s been to the gym then, or practice of some kind. And… Tobio’s eyes trail up and pause, mesmerised, staring at Hinata’s hair.

It’s _short._ The long, unruly waves have finally been chopped off, leaving behind small curls of copper, little cowlicks everywhere. Letting out a noise he would’ve found embarrassing if he’d been aware of making it, Tobio strides forwards and cards his fingers through it, marvelling in the soft texture against his fingers.

“Glad to know it has your approval,” Hinata snorts below him, before he bats Tobio’s hands away to grab at his shirt and pull him down for a long, overdue kiss.

Tobio grabs him back, pulling Hinata as close as it’s possible for him to be, and just loses himself in kissing him, in making up for all the lost time, as he tumbles freefall back into Hinata’s pace, and his bed.

Later, once thirst pulls him from Hinata’s bed covers, Tobio pauses in the doorway, glancing at Hinata’s desk.

“Are those… college leaflets?” he questions, frowning at what he can only describe as a mini mountain of literature cluttering Hinata’s desk. It appears Hinata has been trying to fashion a sculpture out of it in his down time.

Hinata snickers where he sits cross legged on his bed. “Yep. Dad really uh… got thorough about it.” He coughs a little and runs his hand through his hair – now an absolute wild mess thanks to Tobio’s enthralled fingers – and fidgets on the mattress. “Get me a drink too would you? And put a shirt back on in case Mum and Natsu come back.”

“You’re wearing mine,” Tobio points out flippantly, raising an eyebrow at the shirt in question, which is indeed hanging off of Hinata’s shoulder.

Hinata plucks at the material, somehow managing to look sheepish and mischievous at the same time.

Tobio rolls his eyes affectionately – he really has missed him – and resolves to be quick.

“Is your Dad okay with it now?” Tobio asks a few minutes later, once they’re sitting side by side on Hinata’s bed again, empty glasses on the floor. “With Brazil, I mean,” he clarifies when Hinata hums his question next to him.

“Not really with the volleyball part so much,” Hinata sighs, flopping until he can rest his head on Tobio’s shoulder. “He’s okay with me going abroad, and he accepts that college is _not_ happening, but I think he’s hoping I’ll change my mind once I’ve had some _‘life experience’_ as he likes to call it. But… it’s a start, I guess.”

Tobio hums and loops an arm around Hinata, dropping his cheek to rest on top of his freshly cut hair, unsure of what to say. If Hinata hadn’t clammed up about it that probably meant things are definitely improving as he says they are at least-

“I need your schedule,” Hinata suddenly pipes up, switching the topic abruptly.

“Huh?”

“Your schedule. This… calling when we can thing isn’t working and I am _not_ waiting for another miracle encounter before I hear your dumb voice grunting at me again, so… we need to figure out some kind of _system_.”

“A system.”

“Yes. So that I can call you and you can call me and when we do that we actually get to _talk_ to each other. I’m tired of listening to your answering machine!”

“So am I…” Tobio sighs at the ceiling. In his brief, untouchable happiness at having Hinata here, physically with him, he’d almost forgotten they’d be separated again by the morning. Back to square one. “Fine,” he sighs, a little reluctant to peel away from Hinata’s warmth, but this _is_ important, he supposes.

They rock away from each other slowly to fetch their phones, and Tobio resettles at the end of the bed once he locates his, ready to swap the necessary information, when Hinata starts gesturing at him.

“What?” Tobio frowns, confused, as Hinata shuffles back until he’s sitting up against the headrest, legs stretched in front of him.

“Come here!” Hinata urges, making little come hither motions with his hands.

Tobio’s frown deepens, but he crawls up the bed all the same, stopping when he bumps into Hinata’s feet.

Hinata tuts, impatient, when he halts and then sits up straighter, straining forward at the waist to push and pull at Tobio’s shoulders.

Tobio huffs as he’s manhandled, forcibly made to turn around until his back is facing Hinata. “What the fuck are you doing dumbass…”

“Come _here_ ,” Hinata says again, winding his arms around Tobio’s shoulders and pulling him back.

As he cottons on to what Hinata is requesting of him, Tobio’s cheeks colour, faintly embarrassed. A little pout pops on his lips as his stomach squirms – both pleasantly and not-so-pleasantly – as he shuffles back across the bedspread, between Hinata’s legs that have been obligingly spread for him, and settles back against his boyfriend’s chest.

“Better!” Hinata declares as Tobio gets himself comfortable, and he drops his arms down onto Tobio’s front, plonking his chin on top of his head.

Tobio grunts, face still burning, but not so humiliated that he feels the urge to squirm away. Hinata _does_ make for a reasonably comfortable pillow, despite being smaller, and he is delightfully warm…

“Now. Schedule,” Hinata instructs, once he’s wiggled a little behind Tobio, getting himself settled. He switches on his phone, the screen illuminating Tobio’s face where Hinata holds it upright on his chest so that they both can see.

They exchange their diaries in low, hushed voices. Tobio is careful not to make it too loud, too obvious, that most of his engagements are with a top Division One team, especially when Hinata rolls off his part time job shifts. Normally, he likes to poke, likes to nudge Hinata, stoke that fire that made him want to _chase_ Tobio.

But tonight doesn’t feel like the right time for it. Tonight, Hinata isn’t his rival. Tonight, Hinata is his boyfriend and Tobio wants to know when he can _talk_ to him next, not accidentally piss him off.

When Hinata finishes plugging in the dates in his phone, he switches it off and tosses it onto the bedspread, and then grabs Tobio’s and does the same with that one too.

“You don’t have to go until the morning, do you?” Hinata murmurs, lifting his chin from the top of Tobio’s head.

“No,” Tobio confirms, just as quietly. He does have to leave fairly early, but it’s a moot point. Hinata always rises before the sun anyway.

“Hmmm… good. Stay here. Mum and Natsu will probably just go straight to bed, we won’t be bothered.”

Tobio hums back, nestling his head in the slope between Hinata’s shoulder and his chest, closing his eyes. “Okay,” he agrees, softly, as he feels one small hand brush down his front and another stroke his hair away from his forehead.

* * *

“I still think this is really cool, you know,” Hinata chirps as settles himself on Tobio’s sofa.

Tobio’s _new_ sofa.

The new sofa that sits in his new apartment in Tokyo, where he’s been living for the past couple of months, not long after joining the Schweiden Adlers full time.

It had taken some getting used to – the change in scenery, the responsibilities, the disorientation of not having familiar people close by at all times. At least being by himself isn’t new. His parents have spent much of his life working, often late and out of town, and it’s been many years now since Miwa left the family home. Tobio’s used to solitude, to chores and cooking basic meals.

But the one thing he can’t get used to just yet is the city.

It’s just so _loud_. The noise seeps in through walls at all hours – people, traffic, the constant hubbub of buildings that never really shut down. The streets are constantly lined with people and the trains are always packed. There’s a queue for everything and there’s never a moment where Tobio feels like it pauses. It never just _stops_ for a moment to give everything else time to breathe.

It’s all so very different from the quiet, slow-paced life up in the mountains.

He wouldn’t change any of it, of course. He needs to be here for his team and Tobio would live in as many cities as it takes to play volleyball, but he can’t pretend that he _likes_ it. The apartment is okay, he supposes – it’s small and neat and close to the station he uses to travel to the Adlers’ private gym. There are convenience stores nearby so that he never has to travel far for food. It’s noisy and different and sometimes a little bit lonely but it’s… okay.

Tobio knows not to complain, especially to Hinata, who probably wouldn’t take to it too kindly. His enthusiasm for living in the big city aside, it would just rub salt in the wound that Hinata isn’t… there yet. Living in a foreign city, or playing for a professional team. He’ll be independent in Brazil soon, sure, but it’s not the same.

“Have you still not unpacked?” Hinata asks from the sofa, jostling Tobio out of his thoughts as he enters the tiny living area with glass of water for each of them.

“What?” Tobio grunts, confused, as he takes a seat beside him and hands him his glass.

Hinata nods at a box in the middle of the room – sitting there because there is nowhere else to put it – and takes a sip from his glass with a murmured thanks.

“… Oh,” Tobio says, his voice reverberating around the glass as he continues to drink water exceptionally slowly, trying to put off an explanation.

Because he has, in fact, completely unpacked, and the box in the middle of the room is a new delivery that contains possibly the most exciting thing he’s ever received in his life, and he’s not allowed to talk about it.

Not _officially_ anyway.

“Tch,” Hinata snorts in amusement, taking Tobio’s silence for embarrassment. “What, is it all the books you’re never going to read or something? Just keeping them around to look cool?”

And then, before Tobio can stop him, Hinata is plonking his glass down on a nearby kotatsu and scrabbling across the floor on his knees towards the box, clearly intent on opening it and teasing Tobio about its contents.

_“Wait!”_

Hinata pauses, hands hovering just over the box flaps, and lifts his head to look up at Tobio, eyes wide with mild surprise and a little confusion.

Tobio swallows roughly, taken aback by his own outburst, and fumbles for something to say.

Because, under any other circumstance, in any other scenario that the box’s contents are different, he would’ve taken the teasing on the chin. Snapped back with his own quips and then begrudgingly allowed Hinata find somewhere to put the items (probably.)

But he hasn’t- he still hasn’t _told_ Hinata-

“Tobio?”

Tobio starts under the call of his name, soft and concerned, and forces himself to meet Hinata’s eyes.

Hinata cocks his head at him, the mirth in his face draining away and quickly being replaced with something more like worry. “What’s the matter?” he asks, in a tone that demands an answer, but is kind all the same.

“Don’t get mad,” Tobio warns, after a pause.

Ignoring the way Hinata squints at him suspiciously, Tobio slips down from the sofa and onto the floor, dumping his glass on the ground. Slowly, he crawls over to the box on the other side of Hinata and rests his hands on the box flaps, his heart thudding in his chest. He takes a moment to think through his options in his head, running his thumbs over the corrugated cardboard again and again, until he settles on a decision.

He could ask Hinata to leave it, he _could_ , but honestly Tobio does want him to know.

If anyone should know first, it should be Hinata. He just didn’t think he’d be doing it this way.

Sucking in a breath and holding it, with a brief prayer that he won’t get into trouble for this, Tobio opens the flaps and reaches in, fingers clasping over thin plastic packaging and lifting out the object that’s inside.

Hinata’s eyes follow the movement and when the object in Tobio’s hands unfurls, revealing itself, they go huge and wide and almost uncomprehending.

“Is that-?” he breathes, before just reaching for it, taking it from Tobio’s slack grip and starting to pull away the plastic.

Tobio lets him. He already has one he unwrapped earlier in his room.

He watches Hinata closely, his heart beating up a storm, as the plastic is shoved aside and Hinata lifts up a brand new, never before seen, Japan’s national volleyball team jersey, the soft scarlet tumbling in waves as it unfolds.

Hinata’s holding it backwards, so that the front of the jersey faces Tobio, the stark number twenty standing out in amongst all the red. He hadn’t really given it much thought when he’d been asked to choose a number – it matches his Adlers jersey, and is as a good a number as any.

(There is… another one. Another number he’d sort of wanted, but he boxed away the thought as soon as it had occurred to him. He has to be patient.)

For a long time, Hinata says absolutely nothing, his eyes transfixed upon the jersey he’s holding. And then, slowly, he lowers it with shaking hands, the fabric pooling in his lap, until the letters spelling _Kageyama_ are facing up, splattered across the shoulders.

“You got onto the _national_ team?” Hinata asks, and his voice is _so_ small.

“Don’t be mad,” Tobio repeats instantly, tension building in his shoulders.

He’s not entirely sure what he means by _don’t be mad_ – don’t be mad Tobio hasn’t told him yet? Don’t be mad Tobio got onto the team at all when Hinata is still-

“When did you…” Hinata starts to say, his voice still soft, and tiny, before: “is that why you sounded so weird on the phone a few weeks ago?”

“Uhh…” Tobio’s brow knits as he tries to recollect when he might’ve sounded weird. The offer had only come about three weeks ago, the jerseys in the box are sample sizes for him to try on, and while he and Hinata are still kind of bad at using their phones, they _are_ trying, so… it’s possible.

There’s another pause, heavy and awkward, as Tobio tries not to fidget, feeling a headache building between his temples where he’s frowning so hard, and Hinata sits and stares wordlessly at letters on the jersey. There’s something in the air, something like static, and Tobio is unsure what’s going to spark first: Hinata’s temper, or his determination.

“Stand up!” Hinata commands suddenly, shattering the silence with a sudden, loud command. He scrambles to his own feet, the jersey still clenched in his fists.

Tobio blinks up at him, bemused, until Hinata motions impatiently for him to follow his lead.

“Up! Get up!”

Tobio stands, confusion still fogging his brain, and then Hinata is crowding him, yanking at his t-shirt irritably.

“Take this off!”

“I- what?” Tobio mumbles, not following this little charade at all, and starting to lose his patience-

“You can’t put this on-“ Hinata lifts the jersey in his hand, “-if you’re wearing a shirt already. Off!”

“Alright, alright!” Tobio grabs for the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it over his head. He still doesn’t know where Hinata is going with this, but anything is better than the explosion that he’d been expecting. Grabbing the jersey, he pulls it on in one swift movement, the material slipping smoothly over his skin.

He shivers. Professional jerseys still feel so _different_ compared to his high school ones.

When he re-emerges, it’s to an expression on Hinata’s face that he cannot decipher.

It’s not anger. There’s no fury, no indignant rage at being kept in the dark. His brow is still knotted, his mouth still twisted, and his eyes are still blazing, but there’s something… _more_ there. Hinata doesn’t say anything, just keeps this strange look on his face as he reaches out with tentative finger tips and drags them across the jersey.

He traces the number on the front, the black strips down the sides and presses the pads of his fingers into the JPN logo on the breast, all suspiciously, disastrously, silent.

Tobio waits, feeling like he’s vibrating, for the outburst. For the declaration, for the usual fire Hinata spits when he’s rising up to the challenge. It’s as thrilling as it is terrifying, and for once Tobio is not sure whether it’s welcome. He normally loves it, how Hinata faces everything head on, the most driven person he has ever met, but right now it all feels different.

He’s standing here, in his new living room, with his boyfriend witnessing him wear a national team jersey for the first time, and Tobio is just a little bit conflicted.

Hinata opens his mouth, eyes suddenly becoming devastatingly shiny, and he flattens his palm across the tiny Japanese flag on Tobio’s chest.

“I…” he starts, and Tobio braces himself.

“I’m really proud of you.”

The words hang in the air, shuddery and whispered, as Hinata visibly swallows and Tobio tries to remain standing.

“Huh?” Tobio squeaks out, the fog of confusion from earlier returning, settling in his skull like cotton, static buzzing in his ears. Hinata was supposed to- to _declare_ something, or yell, or-

“I mean…” Hinata breaks off to sniff, his eyes now looking distressingly wet, and he gives Tobio’s chest a little pat before swiping the heel of his palm across his cheeks as tears tumble down. “I’m still _really_ jealous,” he says, his voice thick and wobbly, and he huffs out a little laugh, a smile trembling its way across his face.

“But I don’t know anyone else who deserves this more than you do.”

The words seep into Tobio, nestling into every nook and cranny of his body, but it takes a moment before they settle in his brain. He jolts when they register, like he always does when Hinata showers him with praise, always unexpected, always making him want to fall to the floor with how _warm_ he feels.

Unable to articulate, Tobio grabs for Hinata, winding his arms around his shoulders and crushing him to his chest. He feels rather than hears Hinata grunt against him when he collides, a little burst of vibration through his skin, and then two arms are encircling his waist and hugging him back just as tightly. Bending his head, Tobio buries his nose into soft orange waves – shorter than usual, he’s still getting used to it – and breathes in deep.

There are no words he can find to say that encapsulate the feeling in his chest. How by now Hinata has met so many players, so many _setters_ , that arguably deserve a spot on the national team with their domineering skill, and yet even so; Hinata holds him above them all.

Hinata wiggles a bit so that his face isn’t smushed against Tobio’s chest and nestles his nose just underneath his throat, leaning most of his head on Tobio’s shoulder. “I’m getting one too,” he promises, but the fire is a little low with how wet he still sounds. “But! Oh-“

Wriggling madly, Hinata pulls back just enough in Tobio’s arms to peer up at him with huge eyes. “Are you going to play in the Olympics?”

“I don’t know!” Tobio bursts out, his voice box finally springing to life. “They haven’t decided the squad for that yet…”

“Hmmm,” Hinata hums, some of that mischievous spark returning to his eyes, “well you better work hard then, hadn’t you? I’ll be with you for the next one.”

He says it so simply, like he’s merely making plans for dinner rather than playing on the world stage, but Tobio cannot begrudge him for it. He knows what he says to be true. So he just bends, presses his wobbly mouth against Hinata’s, and kisses him.

“Not with those receives,” he murmurs when he pulls back, and Hinata pinches him through his jersey.

* * *

Tobio doesn’t see Hinata off at the bus stop when he leaves for Brazil.

He’s aware there’s a gathering, a mini party of sorts. Where Yamaguchi, Yachi and Tsukishima all took Hinata out to eat for what would be the last time for two whole years. He was invited of course – Yachi had called him when they were making arrangements, and then Yamaguchi had sent him a text a few hours before they were meeting up, just to make sure he that _really_ couldn’t make it.

And he can’t, not really. The training for national team is _intense_ , more than anything he’s ever experienced, and he really doesn’t have the time.

So he doesn’t go to the dinner party. Doesn’t see Hinata off at the bus stop on his way to the airport.

“It’s okay,” Hinata tells him over the phone once he’s on the bus and on his way. It’s an overnight trip – he’ll arrive in Tokyo by morning, ready to fly out first thing. “I would be more annoyed if you gave up training just to come to a bus stop!”

Tobio sits back against the head board of his bed in his poky little apartment in Tokyo that still doesn’t feel like home, and fiddles with the folds of his bedsheets. He’d waited until he knew Hinata would be on the bus before dialling – and he had barely gotten out a greeting before Hinata was chirping how surprised he was to hear from him.

(He may be joking, or he maybe he isn’t. Tobio still worries he’s not good enough with his phone and it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably regardless. Hinata’s going to be away for two _years_ now, he needs to be _better_ at this.)

“You’re-“ Tobio starts to say, but then Hinata is cutting him off again.

“I’m just on a bus,” Hinata says, and his voice has gone surprisingly gentle. “I haven’t even left the country yet.”

Tobio tips his head back against the wall and sighs, loud enough that it crackles over the phone speaker. “You’re going away for two years,” he points out, slightly petulant. Hinata keeps phrasing it like he’s going on holiday for two weeks and then coming straight home. “I should’ve-“

“Stayed in Tokyo and trained,” Hinata interrupts once more, his voice gaining a line of steel under the still gentle tone. “We said goodbye, didn’t we? I’m not mad!”

Tobio doesn’t reply for a long moment, his fingers pulling at the loose threads in his bedsheets. Outside his bedroom window, the pinpricks of light from the surrounding apartment blocks start shutting off one by one as people go to sleep. Part of him is warmed that Hinata seems genuine about wanting him to train, that he isn’t upset with him that he didn’t come home to Miyagi. And yet the other half of him feels inadequate. Like the last night they shared together here in Tokyo – no matter how important, how special – just wasn’t enough, knowing Hinata was soon to be so very far out of reach.

“You should get some sleep,” Hinata’s voice sounds over the line, when they’ve both been quiet for too long, the silence becoming heavy and awkward.

“You too,” Tobio mumbles. Hinata is a restless sleeper at the best of times, there’s no way he’s going to be able to sleep in a cramped airplane cabin that easily.

“Mmmmm, true,” Hinata hums, and he sounds tired already. “I’ll call you when I’m at the airport? Or does that clash-“

“Training is in the afternoon tomorrow. Coach has a meeting first thing.”

“Okay,” Hinata yawns, and there’s some rustling mixed in with the general hum of background noise from the rest of the bus. “I’ll call you in the morning before I get on the plane. G’night Tobio.”

The sound of his given name said so sleepily and seeped in such affection grabs a hold of Tobio’s chest and squeezes it tight, and he finds himself gripping his phone so hard his knuckles ache. “In the morning,” he confirms, hoping the rough quality to his voice makes him sound sleepy and not choked. “… Night.”

Hinata mumbles out a few more sleepy platitudes, and then the line clicks dead.

Tobio looks down at his phone screen, thinks about tomorrow, and then resets his alarm for an hour earlier than he had originally planned. He tosses his phone onto his bedspread table, throws his bedsheets back in exaggerated huff, slides underneath them, and wills for sleep to find him quickly.

* * *

The sun is barely in the sky by the time Tobio is leaving his Tokyo apartment and is heading for the train station. It’s so early that nobody recognises him – something that’s becoming disconcertingly more common these days – and the streets and the station itself is filled only with the odd student or office worker, all in a hurry.

Tobio manages to squirrel himself into the corner of the train he’s boarded, hidden from people and left alone to let his mind wander as the stations fall away one by one. By the time he reaches his destination, the sun has fully risen – heralding the start of a brand new day. Tobio glances at it as he disembarks. Normally, it would signal training getting underway, but today is a rest day.

And today is, for possibly the first time in Tobio’s life, too important for volleyball anyway.

Narita Airport looms, and Tobio hurries from the station to departures, quietly grateful for the occasional international games he’d competed in with the Adlers for knowing where to go. He glances at his phone to double, _triple_ , check the flight details as he hurries down the hallways until he finally reaches the correct place.

This plan had seemed a lot more straight forward in his head when he’d thought of it – late at night the day he found out Hinata’s flight and his rest day coincided. It had been simple: go to the airport, surprise Hinata. Easy, right? Except, he had somehow completely forgotten just how _busy_ airports are, and no matter where he looks, he just can’t see any sign of tell-tale red hair.

Running his hand through his own hair irritably, Tobio turns in a frustrated little circle, looking around wildly for any sign of Hinata. He’s not in the check-in queues, and the gate isn’t open yet… so he should still be _here_ , in the waiting area. But everywhere he looks, it’s just a sea of person after person who isn’t Hinata.

Frustration builds, and Tobio reaches for his phone, throwing surprise out of the window as he jams his thumb against Hinata’s number. He’ll sacrifice the look on Hinata’s face just for the chance to _see_ him one more time before he loses him to a beach half way around the world. The dial tone drones in his ear before it connects to an answerphone. Tobio snarls and hits redial, his eyes skimming over the never ending sea of families and businessmen rushing for flights.

Hinata’s answerphone message – robotic and impersonal, he could never work out how to make a personalised one - plays out in Tobio’s ear again, and he clamps down on the urge to throw his phone across the terminal in frustration. He wanders around vaguely, his movements getting more erratic in his impatience, panic growing that he’s actually missed Hinata entirely. That he didn’t get here early enough, that he got the details wrong and Hinata has already gone through the gate to the departure lounge. That he is too late-

_“Oof!”_

Tobio grunts as his back collides with something – some _one_ – and whirls around to mumble out a distracted apology.

And nearly drops his phone to the floor.

_“Kageyama?”_

Tobio gapes, uncomprehending for a few long seconds, as Hinata stares back at him, eyes wide.

He’s dressed in loose, comfy clothes – ideal for sitting on at least two planes for hours – and judging by his lack of a suitcase, he’s already checked in his luggage. Tobio really did catch him just in time.

“I…” Tobio starts, and then falters. Now that he’s here, he suddenly can’t find any words to say.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Hinata demands, filling the gap in for him, some of the shock in his face draining away to be filled with indignation instead. “Don’t you have practice? Are you ditch-“

“Today’s actually a rest day,” Tobio blurts out, cutting Hinata off before he can finish. “I just didn’t tell you.”

Hinata opens his mouth, gawps at him, his face going slack in sheer surprise once more, before he closes it again. He curls his hands into loose fists and lifts them, like he’s suddenly overcome with the need to fight something.

“So you told a lie and came to see me off?” he asks, and there’s an odd, tight quality to his voice that sends Tobio’s stomach flipping.

“… Of course,” Tobio croaks, once his lungs can expand with air again.

Hinata presses his lips together tightly, his eyes going oddly shiny before he’s suddenly moving, hurtling forwards until he’s colliding with Tobio’s front – hard enough that Tobio has to take a step back to avoid toppling over. Two arms wrap around Tobio’s waist tightly, and then there’s a face – slightly damp – pressing into the crook of his neck as Hinata squeezes him close. Tobio wraps his own arms around Hinata’s shoulders, hugging him back just as hard, his fingers curling tight into his t-shirt sleeves.

For a long, timeless moment, they both stand there, in the endlessly busy airport terminal, before Hinata is gasping into Tobio’s neck, “I’m _really_ going to miss you-“

“No. Stop,” Tobio groans, burying his face into soft red curls to try and smother the wave of sheer emotion that’s suddenly compressing his chest. “You’re not allowed to say that.” They hadn’t even said that during their last night together in Tokyo.

“Tough!” Hinata says, his voice wobbling and horribly watery, “I’m going half way around the world for two years and I’m going to _miss you.”_

Tobio slams his eyes shut and breathes in through his nose sharply. His throat is so tight, so swollen with longing, that all the words he could possibly say are stoppered. So he settles for breathing, of focusing on the weight and warmth of Hinata in his arms until, slowly, he feels like he can speak again.

 _‘I’ll miss you too,’_ is what he should say. It’s the natural response, the _correct_ response. It’s what Hinata probably expects to hear.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is:

“I love you.”

The words come forth without any conscious will or thought. It’s not what Tobio meant to say. But it’s no less true, and Tobio bites down hard on his bottom lip as the weight of what he has just said hits him with full force.

Because he feels Hinata going still in his arms, as he no doubt processes what he’s just been told.

Because even though they’ve been together for what feels like so long now, they’ve never said these words.

Perhaps it’s because neither of them felt the need – like they both just knew it to be true and felt no urge to speak the words into existence.

But Hinata is leaving Tobio’s side for two whole years and that in itself is enough to set them free.

Hinata shudders suddenly, as he heaves in a loud, deep, gasping breath that rattles Tobio as much as his own chest. There’s the briefest of pauses, as Hinata takes a moment to stop shaking, and then he’s pulling back in Tobio’s arms so he can look up and into his face.

(His cheeks are ever so slightly tear streaked. Tobio does his best not to focus on them, lest his own eyes overspill.)

“I love you too,” Hinata says, far too loudly considering their proximity and being in public, his voice commanding all of Tobio’s attention, as always. “And if you don’t win a gold medal at the Olympics I’ll never forgive you.”

Tobio huffs, soft and trembling. “I might not even be on the team,” he points out. The national team is one thing, but the roster for the Olympics is another.

“You will,” Hinata says, with his usual easy confidence – like there’s never any doubt in his mind. Mastering the new minus tempo set, going pro, the Olympics… no matter what stage of Tobio’s career it is, Hinata always has full faith Tobio will manage it.

It’s enough to make his heart want to swell until it bursts against his ribcage, so Tobio leans forward and closes the distance between them, kissing Hinata a little too hard, a little too roughly. But hearing the words _‘I love you too’_ have chased away all of his co-ordination, every last shred of control he might possibly have left.

He knew, somewhere inside, that Hinata did – _does_ – love him. He knows it from his touch, his words, from the way he plays volleyball with him unlike anybody else. But there’s knowing and then there’s hearing it, and it’s like something else altogether new.

He feels Hinata loosen his grip around his waist so that small, greedy little hands can pull at his clothes and tug him closer. Tobio indulges him, as always, and unwinds his arms from around Hinata’s shoulders so that he can slip his hands into messy red hair and cradle his partner’s skull, their bodies pressed together in a perfect line from head to toe.

The people around them ignore them – it’s an airport terminal, people are saying goodbye wherever you look – and for one long, perfect moment, Tobio can pretend they’re not in a crowded airport at all. That they’re at home, in bed or on the court, and that this just one kiss out of many that will happen that day. That there’s no separation to be had at all.

Then Hinata’s flight number is being called out over the terminal speakers, and Tobio breaks them apart with a trembling sigh.

“You need to go,” he mumbles, directing his gaze at the top of Hinata’s head so that he doesn’t have to look into his face.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does.

Hinata nods vaguely, sniffing loudly. Then he’s stepping back, large and deliberate, out of Tobio’s arms and creating a small amount of distance between them. He slaps his hands against his face and rubs his palms across his stinging cheeks. Then, with a large inhale, he drops them, and offers Tobio a hugely bright smile.

Tobio feels his heart ache at the sight of it.

“I’ll call you when I get to my lay-over,” Hinata promises, reaching for the rucksack he had dropped to the floor when he had first crashed into Tobio’s arms.

“Okay,” Tobio replies, and he’s impressed with how steady his voice is. His breath judders in his lungs, shaking and terrible.

“I’m coming back!” Hinata says suddenly, once he’s re-shouldered his bag. His voice is light and almost amused. “I’m coming right back and then I’m going to kick your ass.”

Tobio snorts wetly, feeling some of the tension evaporate. “Don’t make me wait.”

Hinata’s smile turns sharper – even with his eyes still wet – and he looks like he wants to say more, but then his flight number is being called out again and he halts. With a dart, he slips forward, plants a loud, wet kiss on Tobio’s cheek, and then he’s all but running away, waving wildly over his shoulder as he goes.

Tobio watches him, keeping his hand aloft in farewell, until he can no longer see Hinata’s hair bobbing in amongst the crowd.

* * *

Equipped with the lessons they’d already been forced to learn over the past year – dealing with their new distance this time around comes with preparation, but even so, there are some… beginner mistakes.

They had been smart this time. They’d both promised to e-mail each other their schedules for the week, every Monday, so that they knew ahead of time when they could catch each other. They’d looked into the best way of talking while Hinata is abroad, found a programme they could both use without a headache on their laptops, so that they could talk without racking up massive phone bills.

They just kind of forget the time difference.

The first time, it’s Hinata who messes up. Calls Tobio as he’s getting ready in the morning in Brazil, only to catch Tobio just as he’s going to bed in Japan.

Tobio had wanted to stay on the phone longer, but he was exhausted from practice and worrying about Hinata’s phone bill – he’d only _just_ moved, he didn’t have the money for this! – to stay on the line for long. Although the sheepish _‘goodnight’_ in his ear had been worth it, at least.

The next time it’s Tobio who gets it wrong. He has a rare afternoon off, and without thinking dials Hinata’s number. It’s a Thursday, he vaguely recalls that being a fairly free day for Hinata, and he only just remembers the small matter of international phone calls as the dial tone buzzes in his ear. No matter, he’ll just offer to cover this one, as it’s him who’s initiated the impromptu call.

He normally wouldn’t be quite so spontaneous, but practice this morning had been… frustrating. Not _bad_ , but it had left enough of an itch beneath his skin that it makes him want to rant about it. And Hinata is very a good sounding board for any and all volleyball related rants.

“Tobio…?”

Tobio pauses, halfway along the walk that lies between the train station and his flat. Hinata’s voice is croaky, thick with sleep, like he’s only just woken up-

Hang on. What time is it…?

“What’s the matter?” Hinata’s voice echoes down the line again, and Tobio doesn’t think he’s ever heard Hinata sound this groggy before.

“I’ve woken you up,” Tobio says, in lieu of anything else to say. Suddenly, all the frustrations in his head fizzle away as it occurs to him very suddenly and very embarrassingly that it is the middle of the night in Brazil.

“Uh huh…” Hinata confirms, before he breaks off to yawn mightily. “Is something wrong?”

“… No,” Tobio grits out, face starting to burn. “I didn’t… realise the time. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Hinata lets out a little sigh, and there’s a burst of static along with the rustle of fabric – like he’s rolling over in bed.

“I’ll go,” Tobio says when Hinata doesn’t offer anything more, and he shuffles awkwardly on the pavement. “Sorry. I’ll look at the spreadsheet thing later-“

“It’s okay,” Hinata yawns again. “I can’t get used to the time thing either. I woke Yacchan up yesterday.”

Tobio hums, feeling slightly appeased by this, that they’re both not used to such a large time difference, but stupidity still burns in his gut. “I’ll let you go, you need to sleep,” he says at last, somewhat reluctantly. It’s sort of nice, Hinata’s sleepy voice in his ear; it reminds him of early mornings just as the sun starts to rise. But it’s not fair to keep Hinata awake. He needs his rest.

“Okay,” Hinata mumbles, sounding too sleepy to be sulky. “Night night.”

Tobio’s lips twitch. “Goodnight,” he intones, and cuts off the call at Hinata’s sleepy hum.

He starts getting texts more often after that. Sometimes they’re about volleyball, but usually they’re about any old thing that seems to have popped into Hinata’s brain. The wide variety of new food he’s trying. Photos of the beach and the city. Some new word he’s learnt that he either thinks is cool or funny.

Tobio replies with his usual simple sentences – he never has that much to say in return – and tries to send his own messages when he can, but it’s hard. He gets up, plays volleyball, and goes to bed. Sometimes there’s something in Volleyball Monthly to bring up, but mostly it’s all his new, professional life.

And he’s not sure how much Hinata wants to read about that over text.

For the first couple of weeks of Hinata being in Brazil, it proceeds in this way. A couple of phone calls at the wrong time of day, and a slew of text messages that Tobio can only just about keep up with.

It’s far from ideal.

Tobio finds himself itching for more, for an actual conversation, even if it is just Hinata babbling away in his ear while he grunts to show he’s listening. He wants to _see_ Hinata, even if it’s just over a laptop screen. The texts are… okay. It’s nice to know Hinata is alive, but it’s not really enough, and Tobio finds it so hard to reply to them or send his own.

And he worries. The old anxieties from before, when they were fresh out of high school and about to become long distance for the very first time, start to bubble to the surface once again. Because now Hinata really might get too fed up.

Fed up with the distance they cannot solve with a train anymore, fed up with the time difference. Fed up with Tobio’s poor communication skills while they wait for the first time they can Skype each other.

So when Hinata suggests the first date when they can finally sit down, video call each other and _speak_ , Tobio puts it in his diary and waits for it almost obsessively. He checks his phone as often as he can, even if he still can’t come up with wordy responses to Hinata’s messages, and feels his nerves start to fray as time moves too slowly towards the designated date.

But eventually, the chosen morning dawns. It takes a few minutes for them to get Skype working. They’re both terrible with computers, and even with Tsukishima’s instructions – procured a few months ago, in advance – it takes a few false starts, a lot of furious texting from Hinata and a lot of furious swearing from Tobio, before eventually they manage to connect.

The connection isn’t perfect. Hinata’s voice is a little muffled, his internet not as good as Tobio’s, and sometimes the picture on the screen skips and jumps. But it’s a connection, and just seeing Hinata’s face, bright and smiling, is an immediate balm to Tobio’s shattered nerves.

Their first conversation proceeds much as Tobio expects it to – with Hinata babbling endlessly about Brazil, about how different it is, about how excited he is to start beach volleyball. Tobio hums at points to show his engagement, but mostly he’s content to sit back and listen to Hinata chatter. He asks a few questions – about the beach volleyball, mostly – but otherwise he finds he doesn’t have much to say. Hinata’s stories are more interesting anyway.

They hang up with another date placed in the diary, and, his mood greatly improved, Tobio hangs up the call with most of his worries at ease.

The peace doesn’t last.

The next call is decidedly different. Tobio can’t place it at first, but after a few minutes in, he can pinpoint the change. Hinata’s internet quality is still no better, but even a temperamental mic and a jumping screen can’t cover up Hinata’s slightly subdued mood.

He just doesn’t seem as _bright_ as before. Less excited perhaps, now the initial shine of being in a different country had worn off. Less enthused to talk about his job, or his new roommate, or even beach volleyball. He asks more questions about Tobio, badgers him for as much information on the V-League and the national team as he’s allowed to give.

So Tobio describes training, lets the thrill of volleyball get them both carried away, distract them from the elephant in the room that is the storm cloud hanging over Hinata’s head. It helps a little. Hinata certainly perks up a bit, but once the conversation ends it’s like he droops again, and Tobio finds himself at a loss.

He wants to ask about it. Wants to prod and poke and needle an answer out of Hinata, but he hesitates. With Hinata, getting him to open up what bothering him is enough as a struggle as it is, with his habit of diverting the conversation away into happier topics. Tobio doesn’t want to risk annoying him enough that he just shuts off the call. In person, he can physically trap him in place, but online… not so much.

So he twists his hands into unhappy fists, and resolves to write it off as Hinata just having a slightly off day. Those are bound to happen. It’s the first time he’s been away from home, in a country half way around the world that doesn’t speak his language. First time being independent… first time doing a lot of things. It only stands to reason that every day isn’t going to be exciting.

Tobio ends the call telling himself this and begins the impatient wait for the next time they can speak.

The texts he gets leading up to their next call date drop in frequency. Down from several times a day, to just one or two, and then sometimes even none at all. Tobio tries to fill the gap when he can grasp for something to say, but it doesn’t seem to help. Hinata replies no faster, sends no extra texts, and Tobio finds himself staring at his phone more than he’s ever done before.

And he worries, and he _worries._

And when their next Skype call comes around, the very first thing he does is squint at his laptop screen, trying to discern Hinata’s face through the low quality video.

“Uhh… are you okay?” Hinata asks, his voice crackly over Tobio’s laptop speakers.

“Yes,” Tobio snaps, his patience finally running out. “But you’re not.”

Because Hinata isn’t. He can _tell_ , it’s in the downturn of his mouth and the straightness of his shoulders. How he’s trying to sit and look present when it’s clear he just wants to hunch and hide away. Tobio has many years under his belt now of reading Hinata Shouyou, he knows when something is bothering him.

“Huh?” Hinata jolts in his seat and fidgets, looking uncomfortable. “I’m fi-“

“Shouyou,” Tobio barks, not even waiting for the lie to tumble from Hinata’s lips. “Something is bothering you.”

 _Is it me?_ Is what he wants to ask, but he bites down on his tongue before the traitorous words can spring forth. He can ask about Hinata’s distant behaviour towards him in a minute, once he’s wrangled some information out of him first.

Hinata jumps again at the sound of his name and scrubs both hands through his hair, antsy with built up energy. He looks over to the side, avoiding looking at his laptop screen, at _Tobio,_ and rocks in his chair, clearly fighting for what he wants to say and not finding the right words.

Tobio digs his fingers into his jeans to ward off the sudden urge to grasp something. _Give him a minute_ , he wills himself. Hinata is like a mule; he’ll just clam up out of sheer stubbornness if he’s forced now.

“It’s just…” Hinata starts to say at last, his words halting and hesitant, “Brazil is a little… _different_ than I thought it would be.”

“Bad different?” Tobio presses, releasing some of the tension in his hands. It’s not quite an explanation, but it’s a start at least.

“I don’t know,” Hinata replies, sounding unsure, but honest. He stops rocking in his chair and drops his forearms onto his desk, sighing. Static bursts out of Tobio’s speakers. “It’s just… different.”

They both lapse into silence, as Hinata stares down at his desk, clearly lost in thought, and Tobio struggles to summon any suitable words to say. He feels like he should say _‘of course it’s different’_ , simply because it is. Hinata is in a foreign country, learning a completely new language, and trying to balance a job and adult independence with training for a sport in the most unconventional of ways.

Of course it’s _different._

But none of these things sound like platitudes, or like they would make Hinata feel any better. Tobio can only hope it’s just the newness of it all that’s bothering him and that he’ll bounce back soon. Hinata always does.

Usually.

“So… what’s going on at practice? Team selections are coming up soon, right?” Hinata asks, after a long moment of unbearable silence. He rearranges himself in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the seat and winding his arms around his knees, plopping his chin on top. It’s such a childish position, it sends a little pulse of warmth through Tobio’s tense body.

Tobio holds his breath to stop himself from sighing. The sound will only burst over the mic anyway. He’s kind of tempted to turn the conversation around, ask how beach volleyball practice is going instead. Because it’s new to them both and therefore more interesting, in his opinion. But he’s unsure whether Hinata wants to open up about it and trying to wrench the door to Hinata’s thoughts when he doesn’t want them to be heard is exhausting enough at the best of times.

So he settles in his chair, drags his sweaty palms over his thighs, and retells all the stories he can think of that Hinata might find interesting, and especially the ones he might find funny.

He gains no laughs out of Hinata, but he does get that little smile that blooms when Hinata is truly content, and he tells himself that this is good enough. It reminds him of a cat basking in the sun.

Hinata is no perkier when they eventually end the call, far too quiet and far too thoughtful for Tobio’s liking, and his nerves jangle unpleasantly as he shuts down his laptop.

It’s the morning for him and night time for Hinata, and so, hoping he might perhaps get some messages later - once Hinata has awoken and hopefully feeling more like himself - Tobio stretches in his chair and starts getting ready for the day.

But the day passes and his phone doesn’t ping once, not even when he knows Hinata is certainly awake. The silence gnaws at Tobio and he wills himself to think it’s stupid to worry about it. Before Brazil they were _both_ bad at texting. Even when they were long distance in the same country they had been bad at it. This wouldn’t have bothered him before.

But Hinata is right. It’s different.

So by the time Tobio is crawling into bed, his phone decidedly silent, it’s with a fair amount of sulking. And worry. But mostly he just feels a bit surly.

Burying his face into his pillow, he forcibly shuts his eyes and does his best to think of anything else. Any _one_ else. He tries to imagine someone harmless – Asahi-san, yes, perfect – leaping over a volleyball net. Like counting sheep. Anything to lull him into unconsciousness where he doesn’t have to _think_ anymore.

He’s interrupted by a loud, persistent buzzing from the vicinity of his bedside table.

Frustrated, tired, and more than a little wound up, Tobio flings his hand out and gropes around for his phone. He doesn’t even bother to check the screen before he swipes at it, ramming it against his ear and barking out a perfunctory “Hello?” before the person bothering him can even speak. It’s unlikely to be someone professional, not at this hour, so it’s certainly a personal call that he _really_ doesn’t feel like taking right now-

“Tobio?”

Tobio pauses and then sits up abruptly as Hinata’s voice echoes out uncertainly.

“Hinata?” he replies, and then checks his phone screen just to be sure. And yes, that’s definitely Hinata’s name shining back out at him.

“Sorry,” Hinata says, not sounding all that apologetic, “did I wake you?”

“No…” Tobio frowns a little, and settles himself back down against the pillows. “What’s wrong?”

He cuts straight to the point. Hinata’s still acting strangely. He hasn’t tried calling Tobio spontaneously since they started have pre-arranged calls, and he hasn’t said anything all day, so something is up. Maybe it’s still Brazil being different, or maybe it’s Tobio, or maybe it’s both but Tobio has no idea and he’s honestly getting a little tired of going around in circles trying to work it out.

“I just wanted to talk you,” Hinata replies, without any hesitation.

Tobio blinks at that, taken aback. “We spoke yesterday,” he points out, though not in argument, he’s just confused. But maybe Hinata had something to say that he didn’t manage to get out earlier? He swallows roughly and waits for Hinata to continue.

“I know,” Hinata says, and his voice wobbles just the tiniest, tiniest bit. Just enough for the phone speaker to catch, and Tobio finds himself sitting up again, until his feet have swung off the side of the bed and planted themselves on the floor.

“Sorry,” Hinata murmurs, in that voice that suggests he’s pouting. “I just. Wanted to talk. It’s kind of hard to do that here.”

Abruptly, it feels like a cloud has lifted from Tobio’s mind as clarity hits him like a freight train.

Hinata is _lonely._

Tobio twists a hand in the bedsheets beside him as anger at himself flares up, burning hot. Of course Hinata is feeling this way. He’s in a country half way around the world where nobody speaks his language and all of his friends and family are separated from him by thousands of miles and a large time difference. Hinata, who has spent almost every day of his life, Tobio is certain, surrounded by people, is suddenly very much on his own.

“It’s okay to be homesick, I think,” Tobio says, voice honest and simple, saying the words so Hinata doesn’t have to.

There’s a muffled noise over the line, like maybe Hinata is covering up his reaction, and Tobio tightens his grip on the bed sheets. “You know, you’re the only person I know who would do this.”

More muffled noises, and then Hinata’s voice comes back over the line, clearer now. “What do you mean?”

“Going halfway around the world for training. For a sport that’s still basically brand new to you, just so you can get better at the sport you _want_ to play. On your own. There aren’t many people brave enough to do that.”

Hinata doesn’t say anything at first, and Tobio twists the sheets between his fingers over and over again as he waits, listening to the sound of Hinata’s soft breathing with increasing anxiety.

“Would you?” Hinata asks eventually, his voice very small all of a sudden.

“Would I what?”

“Do what I’m doing. If you were in my shoes.”

Tobio lets go of the bed sheets and drags his palm, suddenly sweaty, down his thigh as he considers this. It’s almost a stupid question, because their volleyball paths have been so different – their heights, their experience, their chosen positions… it’s almost impossible for Tobio to imagine doing anything that he hasn’t already done.

But he tries. Knots his brow and purses his lips and tries to think, that if he were short and comparatively so much farther behind than his peers… would he do what Hinata is doing? Would it even occur to him to try?

He tries to think of being abroad. Being abroad on _his own_ , without any managers or teammates or coaches. Where nobody spoke his language and he didn’t speak theirs. Holding up a normal job. Training without any guarantee there will be a reward at the end.

“… No,” he says at last.

There’s a terrible silence on the other end of the line.

“I don’t think it’s a bad plan,” he hurries to clarify, wincing at his own clumsiness. “I told you, I think it’s a really _good_ idea, it’s just… I don’t think I would do it.”

 _Could_ do it, he should say, but his tongue ties up at the last minute. He can just about manage to travel while supervised at the moment, but all on his own? Complete independence in a foreign country? Not at all.

Hinata remains silent, just long enough for Tobio to check that he was even still on the line before he asks, “Not even for volleyball?”

Tobio considers this. Raises his eyes to the ceiling and thinks, blowing out a long breath. He’s not even sure if he would play in a foreign league right now, even if he was asked tomorrow, but… it’s all neither here nor there. The fact is, Hinata is in Brazil, his choice has been made, and no amount of hypothetical wondering is going to get either of them anywhere.

“Well that’s why you’re there,” Tobio points out, in lieu of answering Hinata’s question properly. This isn’t really about him, after all. It’s about Hinata. “For volleyball.”

Hinata hums, but it sounds a just a tiny bit brighter. Less melancholy, more like he’s agreeing. Tobio feels a scrap of tension ease from his shoulders.

Once again, silence falls over the line, except for the odd voice far in the distance or the whisper of the breeze. Tobio wonders if Hinata is outside. Is he on the beach right now?

He’s about to ask, about to ask about anything to do with beach volleyball, desperate for some familiar ground, when Hinata speaks up first, voice clear and loud for the first time since Tobio picked up the phone.

“I miss you.”

“Huh?” Tobio blinks into the gloom of his bedroom, temporarily thrown by this. He sits there, hopeless on his bed, dropping his gaze down to stare sightless holes into the carpet before he comes back to himself abruptly. Of course. Hinata is-

“I miss you too,” Tobio says honestly, and he presses his phone closer against his cheek.

There’s a tiny intake of breath and, belatedly, Tobio wonders if Hinata had been hoping to hear something else instead.

“You do?” Hinata asks, unexpectedly.

Tobio peels his phone away from his ear to give it an incredulous look, like he could somehow communicate his expression to Hinata through sheer will. “Of course I do, you idiot,” he huffs when he lifts it back up again to speak. “Is that why you’ve been so weird?” he demands suddenly, as soon as the thought occurs to him. “Because you didn’t think I-“

“No, I… sorry,” Hinata cuts in, his voice taking on a mumbling quality. “It’s just… I _miss_ you. And you have all these cool professional volleyball things you’re supposed to be doing and I’m…”

“So?” Tobio prods when Hinata trails off. When he doesn’t get an immediate response, Tobio sighs, uncaring if the noise sounds harsh over the phone speaker.

“I’m still here,” he says, almost sulkily. “I can’t always use the damn phone but I’m still _here_. I’m always going to be here.”

There’s more rustling over the line. The chattering of voices gets louder, a seagull squawks in the background. A shuddering puff of breath, and then:

“You’re going to wait for me right?”

A smile tugs at Tobio’s lips before he can stop it. There it is. That _fire._ That drive that pushes Hinata skywards, until he becomes the sun itself.

“Yeah,” he confirms, letting some of that flame burn his own words. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Another huff of breath, but it sounds like laughter, and warmth blooms in Tobio’s chest at the sound.

“I won’t,” Hinata promises, and he sounds so much like his normal self that Tobio flops backwards onto the mattress, suddenly floppy in relief.

“Tobio?”

“Hmm?”

“Love you.”

Suddenly embarrassed – which is ridiculous, because they’ve already exchanged the words, and they’ve been together for years, but _even so_ – Tobio rolls onto his side, squishing his phone between the mattress and his cheek. He lets the words, so easily said, nestle in his chest, making him squirm in a way that he supposes is not entirely unpleasant.

“You too,” he grumbles, the words barely audible over the pout of his lips. It’s too late into the evening for him to be bombarded with such easy words of affection like this.

Hinata laughs. Louder this time, bright and sweet, and wishes Tobio goodnight, promising he’ll cover this call as he was the one who made it out of the blue.

Tobio continues to lie on his side when the line goes dead, phone still crushed beneath his cheek, as he mulls the conversation over in his head and hopes and prays that this will mean an upturn in Hinata’s mood.

* * *

To Tobio’s chagrin, and immense annoyance, it seems as though Hinata only truly becomes more like his normal self after one particular day. It starts out as a completely normal day - practice has just finished, not particularly momentous in anyway, until a selfie drops into his inbox.

It’s of Hinata, posing wildly with, of all the people in the world, Oikawa-san.

“He’s playing for a pro team in Argentina!” Hinata tells him later, over Skype and looking far too perky.

Tobio resists the urge to sulk some more. He already knew Oikawa-san was playing abroad, he just didn’t know he’d be _in Brazil_ , with Hinata. Playing beach volleyball _with Hinata._

“You know,” Hinata says, fiddling with something on his desk that’s off camera, “you should talk with Oikawa-san next time you see him. You two have more in common than you realise, I think.”

Tobio scowls and grunts, unwilling to dignify that with a response.

“He gave me some setting tips, you know.”

 _That_ gets Tobio’s attention. He snaps his gaze back to the screen, mildly infuriated to find Hinata’s teasing smile shining back at him. He’s being goaded, he knows this, but also he takes pride in his position and nothing gets his attention faster than setting.

“What tips?” he demands, partially out of curiosity and partially from a slowly building excitement. It’s not so much Oikawa-san’s advice, though he is perhaps a _little_ bit interested in what he had to say, it’s more so _Hinata’s_ thoughts on it. Out of all the skills on the court, setting was easily Hinata’s weakest skill when he left, and as someone who thinks setting is the coolest thing you can possibly do with a volleyball, Tobio finds himself leaning in close, eager to know more.

Hinata’s smile broadens, like he’s just won something, but Tobio lets it slide in favour of listening to the stories that tumble from those mischievous lips.

Their calls start becoming a lot brighter in tone from that night on.

Tobio is still unsure how he feels about Oikawa-san potentially jumpstarting Hinata back into drive, but for his boyfriend’s continued happiness, he’ll take it. He values Hinata feeling better over petty feelings from years gone by in high school, after all.

Steadily, the weeks slip by, and Hinata seems to get comfier in his new routine. His texts don’t become frequent again, but they do become more thought out and often longer. Tobio slightly misses being pinged as often as he was in the beginning, but he appreciates the messages whenever they do arrive all the same.

It’s hard not to – when most of them come attached with a photo - often a selfie - of the beach, of Hinata’s new friends, of some new dish he’s cooked. Tobio feels a little wash of relief, and sometimes jealousy, when he receives each one. Slowly, bit by bit, it seems Hinata is starting to finally thrive in his new environment, as Tobio always knew he would.

But there is one other thing. One other teeny tiny problem that’s slowly building with every selfie, with every video call with a jumpy screen.

Hinata physique is changing. And Tobio isn’t really sure how to cope with it.

He doesn’t really notice the tan at first, not until Hinata starts to get really brown, permanently sun kissed with a splatter of freckles across his arms and cheeks. The first time Tobio spotted them he’d played his worst volleyball for the day afterwards because he was so damn distracted. His mind kept constantly looping back to how much brighter Hinata’s hair looks, how much sweeter his smile is with cocoa dust sprinkled across his cheeks.

Then there’s his _body._ His shoulders, his forearms and his thighs. As the weeks slip into months, the change becomes visible. Tobio is so used to thinking of Hinata as, not so much slender these days, but definitely smaller than he is, and as Hinata sits in his chair during a Skype call, tanned and toned arms waving around dramatically as he retells a story, Tobio finds himself staring a lot more than he probably should.

And in the complete absence of touch, it becomes a source of great frustration.

But Tobio is nothing if not patient, and Hinata will eventually come back to him, sun kissed and beach volleyball hardened, ready to face him across the court.

And as Hinata slowly starts to rise, so does Tobio.

He’s confirmed for the Olympic squad: as their back up setter and pinch server.

He doesn’t even check the damn spreadsheet before he’s dialling Hinata’s number once he gets the news.

By some miracle, or perhaps just luck, Hinata picks up. It’s evening for him, but judging by the noises Tobio can just make out over the phone speaker, he’s on the beach. He does this sometimes; he’s made friends with a bunch of old people who play beach volleyball into the night. Tobio finds this baffling, but it’s Hinata. He could make friends with a fence post.

Hinata is quiet when Tobio announces the news, and there’s a brief pause once he finishes where neither of them say anything at all.

Then Hinata starts hollering in the middle of the beach.

“Will you- oh for fuck’s sake _\- Hinata!”_ Tobio bellows, loud enough to be heard over a terrible long distance connection. He can just imagine the scene Hinata is making, and embarrassment crawls up his spine even as a smile starts to creep along his face.

Hinata shuts up, audibly sucking in excited little breaths, before he starts babbling. A stream of nonsense about Brazil and all the food Tobio has to try and all the things he has to see.

“It’s not a holiday,” Tobio points out, cutting in amongst all the nattering. Hinata sobers up again, humming, and Tobio mulls his next words over in his head for a few seconds before spitting them out before he can lose his nerve. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes,” Hinata says immediately, but he doesn’t angry or surly at all. He sounds rather like he did in Tobio’s apartment all those months ago when he discovered a national team jersey tucked away in a box.

“But you’re going to…” Tobio prompts, searching for that declaration that Hinata normally makes in times like these, reaching for the familiar.

“Can I bite your medal?” Hinata asks, in lieu of anything actually intelligent.

“… What.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do right?” Hinata continues, to Tobio’s increasing bafflement, “When you win a gold medal! All the people on tv bite them!”

“You… you are not chomping on my medal. On _any_ medal, what are you, an animal?” Tobio asks, more to the world at large rather than to Hinata himself. He shakes his head in vague despair. “And I have to win one first.”

“You will,” Hinata says, with that usual, casual faith. Like even if Tobio expressed doubt he could spread wings and fly Hinata would still believe that he could if he wanted to. “Or I’ll never forgive you.”

Tobio huffs at the light hearted threat, sniffing suddenly. His eyes have started to burn threateningly and his throat is slowly tightening, constricting as his heart swells in his chest. He wants to reply but he can’t, he doesn’t trust his voice not to wobble dangerously.

Fortunately, he is saved by the sudden swell of voices in the background – from the seniors Hinata plays with on the beach calling for his attention.

“The grannies are looking for you,” he teases, his throat loosening enough to speak, but not to hide the croak in his words.

Hinata doesn’t call him out about it. “They’re better at beach volleyball than you’ll ever be,” he shoots back easily. He yells something back in words Tobio cannot understand - not because they are garbled, but because they are in a language he does not know. It’s still a little disorientating sometimes, hearing Hinata speak Portuguese.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Hinata promises, switching back to Japanese, easy as pie. “In the same time zone!”

Tobio grips his phone tighter, his smile broadening. The irony is not lost on him. “Sure.”

The evening Brazilian wind howls through the phone speaker before Hinata says, his voice low and wondrous, like a miracle has just unfolded in front of his eyes:

“You’re gonna blow the world away Tobio,”

Tobio’s breath sucks in sharp, and he clamps his eyes shut, the words hitting him so hard his chest throbs. But by the time he wrestles his shuddering lungs back under control, forces his traitorous heart to calm down and regains enough of himself to speak, Hinata has already ended the call.

Tobio lets his phone drop from his hand to clatter onto the table where he sits, and stares up at the ceiling of his lonely, Tokyo apartment.

He’s happy, blissfully so, but he cannot help feeling like there is a piece missing in this puzzle.

* * *

Japan get knocked out of the Rio Olympics in the second round.

It takes Tobio three hours before he finally makes the call.

“Do you forgive me?”

For the first time in months, Hinata’s voice is perfectly clear over the phone, answering Tobio’s question without a hint of hesitation.

“Argentina were pretty incredible, so yes, I think I can forgive you. You’re going to get stronger right?”

Tobio swallows roughly. Buries his face into the starchy, unfamiliar pillows in his designated bed in the middle of the Olympic Village, cut off from the rest of the city. He’s not allowed to leave, and Hinata isn’t allowed to come in, and Tobio has never felt so distant from him.

They’re in the same country, yet it feels like they’re sitting on entirely different stars.

“I saw you on tv you know,” Hinata goes on to say, and there’s a quality to his voice that Tobio cannot quite place. “Getting your service ace. Told you you’d blow the world away, didn’t I?”

Tobio grits his teeth. He can’t remember the last time he felt this frustrated. They’ve just _lost._ There’s no glory, no pride to be had in not even placing. Some people would say just getting to go to the Games is in itself an honour, but Tobio wants more than that. He scrunches his eyes shut, fast forwards time in his head to four years from now. A new Olympics. A new team.

Hinata by his side, an animalistic glint in his eye as he keeps his gaze on that gold medal he wants.

But for now, there is none of that. Hinata is training. Hinata couldn’t even come to watch him play. And Tobio is standing on a stage that feels so lonely in its enormity.

_All I want to do is to play volleyball._

“We lost,” Tobio snarls eventually, spitting out the poison that lances his veins, sheds a little of the frustration that burns him.

Hinata hums. “So what are you going to do tomorrow?”

Tobio rolls onto his back, sighing the last of his energy up at the ceiling. “Train. Improve.”

_Wait for you._

“You better be at the next one,” Tobio says, uncaring that his voice is scratchy, that there’s moisture tumbling down his cheek. “Or I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’ll be there,” Hinata promises, as he’s always promised, ever since Tobio has known him.

Tobio swipes at his face, swallows until his throat no longer feels like it might shred itself if he speaks, and demands a story. Something about the beach, about the sport Hinata is trying to dominate that Tobio has never tried.

He rolls himself into a little cocoon of strange, unfamiliar sheets, and lets Hinata’s words paint him a picture, until he eventually falls asleep.

And many months later, Tobio finds himself doing something similar. The heating in his Tokyo apartment is broken, and he’s rolled himself into a duvet burrito to keep warm, fending off the early spring chill. He holds his phone close to his face, the only illumination in his fridge of a bedroom, eyes fixated on the figure on the screen, darting across the sand like he’s a part of the beach itself.

The video is in Portuguese, and Tobio understands none of it.

Except for two words:

_Ninja Shouyou._

He watches as Hinata dives for a ball, appearing beneath it like he had been waiting for it all along, sending it skyward in a perfect arc. He’s up and on his feet before his partner even gets his fingers on it, is leaping for the sun like the sand beneath him means nothing. The point is scored – effortless. The other team don’t even have time to blink; they are simply left in shock by the player who baited them so cleverly into serving exactly where he wanted them to.

Greatest decoy indeed.

Tobio smiles, pillowing his cheek on a roll of duvet.

“Nice receive,” he whispers into the night.

It’s okay. Hinata’s not here yet to hear him, so he can say this aloud, just this once.


	3. (As Long As I Get To Win With You)

Hinata arrives back in Japan with all the force of a meteorite crashing to earth.

Tobio finds out about his appointment to the MSBY Black Jackals long before the general public do. Long before others in the professional circuit in fact. Hinata tells him, a mere couple of weeks after his return, voice almost high pitched in his disbelieving excitement, that he’d received the offer. An offer than had been made only two days after try-outs.

Tobio is unsurprised. Hinata had been a good player with a unique play style _before_ he went to Brazil. Now he’s something entirely new. Alluring. In a sport where it’s so easy to excel through sheer height alone, Hinata has to be something more than just quick on his feet. Tobio is tempted to ask for the details, to learn all of the ways that Hinata has grown, but he bites his tongue.

He’d rather see first-hand for himself after all.

Even so, Hinata does divulge his position, and Tobio cannot smother the fierce grin that splits his face when his partner says wing spiker; opposite hitter.

Opposite the setter. Perfect.

The wait before the first game of the V-League season is almost unbearable.

He still gets to see Hinata – Osaka, where the Black Jackals are based, is not that far by train. They’re both busy, but they make time. Hinata still finds Tokyo thrilling and Tobio has never been to Osaka except for games. Compared to the past two years of nothing but bad quality phone calls, text messaging and an infuriating time difference, the ease of seeing each other now is heaven.

(He’ll never forget the first night they spent together after Hinata had come home. Barely twelve hours after his plane had landed, Hinata had given himself just enough time to arrange a temporary home base for try-outs before he was standing outside of Tobio’s front door, tanned and exhausted and solid and _real._

Tobio had gawped at him, almost uncomprehending reality, because they were supposed to meet up tomorrow but Hinata had always been impatient.

They had crashed together, seeking contact and connection, the kind they could only ever find in each other. Tobio doesn’t remember if they even spoke that night. But it didn’t matter. No words had been needed.)

But even though the side of Tobio that longs for Hinata as his boyfriend has been sated – for now – the other side of him, the volleyball player, _yearns._

Too long he has spent playing on a court with a hole in it. Not just by his side, but over the net too. An oppressive, unavoidable absence that makes his skin itch and hunger gnaw at his stomach.

So when that day in November dawns, the day that Hinata Shouyou stands on a court as a professional for the first time and declares _I am here_ , Tobio does not stop smiling for a single second of it.

Volleyball is _fun._

All Tobio wants to do is play volleyball. But more than that, he wants to play volleyball with someone just like him. Whose soul burns for the sport; who never settles; who chases for the stars and then demands everyone else does too.

As a child, Tobio used to hold back when he played, desperate for the games to never end.

As an adult, Tobio watches Hinata descend from the sky - a comet, a wonder, and doesn’t quite want the _match_ to never end. He wants _this_ to never end: this feeling, this sensation that he only feels when playing with Hinata. He wants to play volleyball with him again and again and again. Forever, until they can both play no more.

Hinata wins their first battle. The first of many. And Tobio has never been prouder, or happier, to lose. It’s a strain not to kiss him there and then, to press him close and whisper praises in his ear. He’d even praise his receives, such is the elation in his chest.

But it’s Hinata’s moment. His moment to shine, and Tobio is all too happy to stand back, just a bit, and let everyone else see just how brightly he has always shone.

A few months later, Tobio gets another call. One morning on a rest day, a day that shouldn’t have been particularly monumental in any way. Hinata is busy today, seeing his family back home in Miyagi, and so when his name lights up Tobio’s phone screen, he assumes Hinata is just calling him while on the train to soothe his boredom.

“Can I come over?” is the unexpected request.

Tobio frowns, bewildered. Hinata doesn’t sound panicked or upset or flustered in any way. He doesn’t sound like something bad has happened. Just a little flushed, a little excited perhaps, almost breathless.

“What’s going on?” Tobio asks instead. “What about going home?”

“Change of plans!” Hinata pants, and there’s an awful lot of noise around him, like he’s running through busy streets. “So? Can I? It’s a rest day for you too right?”

“Yes…” Tobio says slowly, in answer to both questions. “But, Hinata, what is going on?”

“I’ll see you soon, okay? Love you, bye!”

Tobio blinks into thin air, temporarily disabled by the casual affection, and by the time he snaps back to reality the line has already gone dead.

Hinata doesn’t pick up when he tries to call him back, and he doesn’t reply to any messages – even though he reads all of them – so Tobio huffs in deep annoyance, and resolves to make sure he’s got enough food in the fridge. It’s not that he doesn’t mind Hinata coming over. That part he’s thrilled about, he was going to be so bored otherwise. He would just like to know the occasion, is that too much?

Two and a half hours, a fully stocked fridge and a somewhat tidy apartment later (Hinata won’t care if it’s messy), there’s a furious banging on Tobio’s front door.

“What’s going on?” is what Tobio demands when he answers the door, blocking the entrance fully with his body so that Hinata has to reply before he’s allowed in. Another bonus to being tall and broad: there aren’t gaps for Hinata to take advantage of.

Hinata balls his hands into little excited fists and bounces up and down on his toes. As Tobio suspected from his voice, he doesn’t look like he’s had any sort of bad news. In fact, he looks absolutely ecstatic, which is only making Tobio’s curiosity worse.

“Well, you see, you told _me_ in person. Or I guess I kinda found out and then you had to tell me but you told me in person anyway and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that didn’t sound cool enough and we’re both off and I really, _really_ didn’t want to wait so-“

“Hinata!” Tobio shouts, cutting off the babbling. “Spit it out!” He hisses the next part, wary of his neighbours.

Hinata hovers, literally vibrating where he stands. “Hibarida-san called this morning,” he eventually blurts out, all in a rush, staring up at Tobio with massive golden eyes.

Tobio feels his own eyes widen. “Did you…?” he whispers hoarsely, as hope hits him hard, twisting itself around his ribcage, making him hyperaware of his own breathing, his heart beat thudding in his ears.

Hinata’s hands curl and uncurl in their tight little fists. He seems, for once, to be completely at a loss for words. “Uh huh,” he manages to squeak out.

Tobio wants to say something, wants to voice all the words that are currently clamouring around inside his head. All the congratulations, the praise, the _pride_ that he feels. But they’re caught, snared in his chest and unable to be voiced. He stands there, feeling the tension in his body that he had been using to the block the doorway ooze away, until he’s almost limp in his shock and blissful disbelief.

Then Hinata is moving, muscles bunching, until he’s launching, sky borne, and crashing right into Tobio’s arms. Tobio catches him through sheer instinct rather than thought, stumbling backwards under the sudden weight. Hinata clutches at him tightly, hands scrabbling for purchase, until Tobio manages to hook his hands securely under his thighs and keep him in place.

Tobio staggers further back into the flat, uncaring that his front door is still wide open, and tilts his chin up so that he finally look into Hinata’s face – that bright grin blazing down at him – and tries his best to hide his wheeze. It’s not just that Hinata’s sudden weight in his arms, it’s that Tobio doesn’t think he will ever get used to being so close to sunbeams.

“The _world stage_ Tobio,” Hinata says, his voice high and constricted, choked with disbelief.

Tobio cannot help it. He smiles, so wide that it hurts, so strongly he feels his eyes start to burn. After all these years, the world stage is no longer a dream. It’s no longer lonely. It’s a reality, and one by one, all those holes in the court fill up again.

Tobio wants to play volleyball with Hinata forever, and he thinks Hinata does too.

But they are both greedy, and simply facing off against each other is not enough. Just being teammates is not enough. Why do one when you can have both? Threat… or is it trust?

Hinata loops his arms a little tighter around Tobio’s shoulders, leans in close, and kisses him fiercely. “You’re going to _set_ to me again,” he whispers against Tobio’s lips, the tip of nose pressed against Tobio’s bridge. He’s so close all Tobio can see is warm honey brown and the fading splatter of freckles.

“Yes I am,” Tobio agrees, just as passionate. He doesn’t even have it in him to tease. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like so long. He loves setting to all of his hitters, he gets to play with so many monsters - the spikers that have defined a generation. But there’s only one person that sends lightning arcing through his fingertips when he sets the ball.

He feels Hinata laugh against him, a high, breathless giggle, and then finally his arms really start to shake, unable to hold Hinata’s weight no longer. Hinata seems to sense his seat is in jeopardy and slips down, but keeps himself close, smiling so brightly he could light the whole room up by himself if he wanted.

“Hey, hey, Tobio,” he says, pulling at Tobio’s shirt, “what number are you going to pick?”

Tobio blinks, not expecting this. He’s always been number twenty. A number given to him when he joined the Adlers and he’s never changed it – it’s as good as number as any. But now that it’s being pointed out to him the realisation that he _can_ pick is almost startling.

It hadn’t been lost him that Hinata had chosen number twenty-one for the Jackals. One lower than his.

And if those will be their numbers as opponents, then there really can only be one choice to pick for when they are partners.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his smile sharpening into more of a smirk. “Something coincidental maybe.”

Hinata smirks back, understanding, before he turns to kick Tobio’s front door closed with his foot and crowds back in again close, chasing for kisses.

“What about your family?” Tobio gasps later, halfway to the bedroom.

“Don’t mention them _now_ ,” Hinata groans, nipping at Tobio’s jaw. “What is _wrong_ with your timing? Ugh. I paid for them to come here. They’ll be here later. Tokyo dinner to celebrate, or something.”

Tobio huffs in amusement. Looks like Hinata can think some things through at least. He wonders if he’ll have to dress up later, as Hinata will surely drag him along.

But those are considerations for a future him, and right now, in the present, he’s more than happy to tumble into bed with his partner, his favourite spiker, and celebrate a declaration from a unexperienced teenager finally, _finally_ coming true.

And, a few weeks later, the numbers nine and ten are worn once more. On a different colour, on a different stage, but no less deadly.

Once again, in the middle of his living room, Tobio stands there, in his own, brand new jersey, and nods appreciatively as Hinata spreads his arms wide in front of him to show off his – as perfect on him as Tobio always knew it would be. He turns his index finger in a little circle and Hinata turns on the spot in response, showing him the full view, and Tobio’s heart flutters slightly at seeing his partner’s name spread out across his shoulders.

 _I’m so proud of you_ , is what he wants to say, but the words get stuck, and no amount of breathing will loosen them. So he gathers Hinata close, kisses him deep and long, and hopes he can communicate this way instead.

* * *

In the brief lull before training with the national team starts, Tobio finds himself with a… domestic problem.

Because he half expects living with Hinata to be a mess.

He’s gotten so used to being on his own, having a flat that runs exactly how he likes it, that he’s almost reluctant to allow Hinata to barrel into his space.

And that’s exactly what Hinata does once the V-League season ends (with MSBY Black Jackal as the champions, for the first time in over five years, thanks to their new star.) No longer needed in Osaka, Hinata had packed his bags, said goodbye to the little place he’d been renting there, and hopped on a train to Tokyo, settling himself into Tobio’s flat like he’d always been there.

To be fair to Hinata, Tobio doesn’t think he’s really moved himself in as such. His bags are still mostly packed, in a neat pile in the poky little room Tobio calls his guest room – though it’s completely devoid of furniture – and he’s caught Hinata looking at places to rent on his phone more than once. But, equally, he seems to be in no hurry to go.

It reminds Tobio of when they were in high school, when Hinata had invited himself round Tobio’s as he pleased. Except this time there’s no school in the mornings, so there’s no hurry for Hinata to leave.

Tobio’s still working through how he feels about it. After a week, he’d thought he’d be pulling his hair out. He’d assumed living with Hinata would be similar to playing with him on the court – all speed and wild decisions and unpredictability. That he’d be messy, a whirlwind around the house, loud in the mornings and just before bed, never really settling.

Tobio loves him, he _does_ , but he’s never lived with him.

So he’s completely thrown off guard by how easy it turns out to be.

Maybe it’s because Hinata had a roommate in Brazil, but he’s none of the terrible things Tobio expected him to be. He does get up before the sun, but he’s quiet until Tobio is also awake. He tidies up, he offers to cook almost every meal and still helps with the cleaning up after. He’s still Hinata, still loud and bright and fills up the space without trying, but Tobio never feels like he’s making room for him.

Hinata just slots right in, like a piece that was always meant to be there, it was just missing for a while.

And Tobio has no idea what to do. On one hand, he feels guilty that he ever doubted Hinata in the first place, but on the other… he doesn’t know how to voice that he wants Hinata to _stay_ this time. That he doesn’t want the bags in the spare room to leave unless it’s to unpack them. That he wants to go to bed every night knowing Hinata will still be there every morning.

But even if he asks, Hinata can only stay for so long.

Because Tobio is leaving, moving to Italy once these tournaments with the national team have ended, and they’ll be apart all over again.

Tobio has put up with distance for three years, has gotten used to it, but now Hinata is _here_ , a temptation, he finds himself at a loss.

In the end, it’s Hinata that solves his conundrum for him.

“So I’ve got a train booked for tomorrow…” Hinata starts to say in the middle of the breakfast preparations one morning.

Tobio is so distracted by the way Hinata’s hair dries into cute little ringlets when he’s fresh from a shower that he’s barely listening, until the word ‘train’ hits him with force and he jolts.

“Don’t leave,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Huh?” Hinata glances over at him, bewildered, and nearly drops the eggs he’s holding.

“Err…” Tobio stammers, just as caught out as Hinata is.

“I meant I have a train booked to go and see Yacchan,” Hinata finishes, raising an eyebrow at Tobio curiously. “And I was going to ask whether you wanted to come with me but I guess there’s something else you wanted to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Tobio says, and he’s being completely honest. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, and he doesn’t even know what he _wants_ , yet alone how to phrase it to Hinata. He doesn’t want Hinata leave, but also he doesn’t want to get so comfortable that the distance is only going to hurt twice as hard in a few months’ time.

Hinata settles his eggs down on the counter instead of cracking them. “I don’t mind either way you know,” he says, his tone light. “Staying here or finding my own place, I mean. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but it seems like you’re stuck.”

Tobio finds himself pouting a little at Hinata’s teasing smile. “It’s just… I leave for Italy soon,” he says, as though this is in any way a sufficient explanation, and shrugs his shoulders helplessly.

“You do,” Hinata agrees, tapping his fingers on the counter, “but what do you want now?”

Tobio adds a frown to his pout as he thinks. Hinata’s voice is patient, for once not pushy, and he finds himself believing that he really will be okay with whatever Tobio chooses. And the more he thinks about it: the bags in his spare room leaving, of _Hinata_ leaving, the more he finds himself hating it.

But what will he hate more? Distance now? Or later, when he’s gotten used to Hinata’s constant company?

“I don’t want you to leave,” he repeats, feeling a little useless and getting annoyed at himself for it. “But also-“

“You know what I think?” Hinata interrupts, his voice loud and bright and cutting off Tobio’s mumble. He turns back to the stove and cracks his eggs into the pan, and soft sizzling fills the air. “I think we’re going to be apart a lot for a long time. We want to play all over the world right? I’m not going to be playing here in Japan forever! And this is just the beginning! Who knows what tournaments or challenges we’ll want to try in five, ten, twenty years from now? I don’t think we can always be together, not right now, but doesn’t that mean we should make the most of when we are?”

Tobio gapes for a moment, jaw working but with no sound coming out, as he takes in Hinata’s easy grin and twinkling eyes and thinks: Yes. Yes, all of that.

“Or we could wait until we’re old men with creaky knees,” Hinata adds, “but I think I might miss you too much.”

“Old men?” Tobio croaks back. He wants it so badly – all of the years that Hinata will give him, but hearing the words still threatens to overwhelm him.

“Well… yeah,” Hinata says, suddenly looking a little unsure. “Don’t you… want that too?”

Tobio leans forward, and kisses him. “Don’t leave,” he demands.

Don’t leave, for as long as I can have you.

He feels Hinata smile against him. “Okay,” he agrees, simply.

And then the fire alarm blares as tendrils of smoke curl into the air from the slowly burning eggs.

* * *

Hinata is a creature of many faces.

Tobio knows this. He has known this for years: that Hinata is all at once sunshine bursting through the clouds, or a raging fire ravaging a path for progress, and also sometimes cold, like the few remaining embers after a bonfire.

Many people don’t see all there is to Hinata. They know him as purely cheerful, as an endlessly positive person who always seems to be on a permanent cloud. If they’re lucky, they might see that fire, that burn in his eyes when he’s in a corner. When he’s challenged and has the grit to smile and declare war right back.

But it’s the quiet moments, the lull in peace time, when Hinata sometimes inadvertently displays another side to himself.

Before, Tobio had assumed the melancholy moods he sometimes found Hinata in were rare things. A passing, negative thought that festered in his mind until it twisted itself into something heavy and weighing. He knows that Hinata is no more immune to sadness, to pain and upset, than anybody else, it’s just he’s just a little better at moving on from it.

Or, maybe, he’s just a little better at hiding it.

Living with Hinata gives him access to him like he’s never had before. And not just in the usual ways of having someone’s constant company, but getting to see Hinata, really _see_ him, from morning till night, and all the moods that happen in between.

He almost doesn’t notice there’s anything wrong at all at first. Hinata is mostly the same as he always is – a relentless ball of energy and drive, full of charm and humour and a surprising amount of affection. But then there are moments, usually in the evenings when they’re winding down – as they’ve been trained to – when the sun starts to set and it’s like Hinata’s mood sometimes lowers with it.

And Tobio simply cannot place the source, no matter how hard he tries.

At practice, Hinata is a force. They call them the monster generation, but Tobio thinks Hinata might just be the most monstrous of them all. He’s a wonder on the court during games, but he’s an altogether a different beast in practice. He tries new things, he thinks, he’s surprising every single day and Tobio knows he’s not the only one who can’t get enough of watching him. And Hinata’s play style is so unique, so integral to some of their new, amazing strategies that he’s not even in danger of being a back bencher, despite being new.

So it can’t be volleyball, Tobio doesn’t think. It’s not like before, where Hinata was often thinking about how to catch up. Now, there’s several professional players snapping at his heels trying to catch up with _him_. And Hinata shines in practice, like he’s having the absolute time of his life every single second that he’s there.

It’s not volleyball, and Tobio wonders for a while whether it might be him instead.

But the doubts don’t stay long. Hinata almost constantly seeks contact and attention when they’re at home, needy in the same ways Tobio is, and he always seems to prefer his company over being by himself. There’s no shortage of kisses, of hugs that threaten to leave bruises, of touches that are both teasing and passionate. There’s not a day that goes by where Tobio doesn’t feel cherished, and he almost wonders how he managed to live without it all before.

But even with a career on the rise, and a home life that seems to be blossoming, Hinata still sometimes looks… distant.

So Tobio watches him and watches him and feels worry slowly start to build all over again.

It builds until breaks, on a rainy Thursday evening.

There’s nothing ultimately special about this day, that Tobio is aware of. They had gone to practice, as usual, and it had been gruelling and intense and incredible, as usual. Nothing had gone wrong. They had boarded the train to go home after, Hinata leaning his weight subtlety into Tobio’s side as he scrolls through his phone and babbles out ideas for dinner tonight. Tobio had chosen a Brazilian dish – Hinata had mentioned milk as an ingredient and his curiosity had peaked.

And yet, by the time Hinata has bustled himself into the kitchen, ready to get a start on dinner, the mood shifts. Tobio notices it immediately, like a chill has settled in the air despite the summer humidity, when he comes into the room to fetch a glass of water. He could brush it off as concentrating – the way Hinata is staring down at whatever is simmering on the hob. That he’s simply trying to remember the next stage of the recipe – his phone sits on the counter, screen shining – or if he should alter anything for Tobio’s decidedly milder palate.

But Tobio knows Hinata’s face when he’s concentrating. He sees it for hours during volleyball. And he’s not concentrating, he’s lost in his head.

Tobio moves to stand next to him and gently knocks his elbow into his side to get his attention. “What’s up?” he asks, keeping his tone deliberately mild. If he blurts all his suspicions outright he’s only likely to get a smile plastered on Hinata’s face and a brush-off for his efforts.

“Hmm?” Hinata hums, not looking up at him. He continues to stare into his saucepan of ingredients without actually seeing it, his eyes far away. “Nothing.”

Tobio frowns at the bland response. It’s neither defensive nor falsely cheerful. It’s like Hinata hadn’t even really listened to question he’d been asked. He ducks his head, trying to catch Hinata’s gaze, but he doesn’t succeed. Instead of meeting his eye, Hinata glances down at his phone instead, just briefly. Tobio follows the movement, and frowns even harder when he finally sees what shines out from the screen. It’s Hinata’s social media page, but that doesn’t make sense. Hinata’s never complained about social media before, so that can’t be the source of his strange mood, can it?

“You’re quiet,” Tobio says, when the silence that settles between them starts to get awkward. He doesn’t like it when Hinata is quiet. The only good times for him to be quiet are when he’s asleep or focusing like a demon during a match. Otherwise he’s a constant, never ending source of some kind of noise. Tobio _likes_ this about Hinata; it’s comforting and the melancholy silence is as eerie as it is disconcerting.

“I’m… thinking,” Hinata offers, sounding distracted. He moves his ingredients around in his pan slightly, and waves a hand at Tobio, a smile flicking up. “Can you fetch the-“

“No,” Tobio interrupts, before Hinata can even finish his request. There it is: the cover up, the cheerful face to hide whatever it is that Hinata doesn’t want to expose. “Something’s bothering you. Something’s been bothering you for days. What is it?”

All at once, Hinata’s smile drops, replaced with something that’s a mix between anxiety and a valiant attempt at trying to look nonchalant. He fails miserably. He’s never been able to keep the emotions off of his face.

“It’s fine!” Hinata says, shrugging his shoulders with an exaggerated movement and dropping his gaze, staring determined holes into his frying pan. “It’s just something silly, so…”

“But you still won’t tell me.”

Hinata flinches, just a little bit, under the accusation, and as an expression of frustration starts to darken his features, Tobio feels the last thread of his patience finally snap.

“Shouyou, seriously, what the _hell_ is your problem?”

And he doesn’t mean to yell, really he doesn’t, but he’s never been good at reigning in his temper once it sparks, and the words are reverberating around the kitchen walls before he can stop them. Hinata jolts under the noise, eyes wide in surprise, clearly not expecting to be yelled at, before his own temper seems to flare, ignited from being backed into a corner he doesn’t want to be in.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” he challenges, lifting his chin as his eyes spark.

Tobio gestures at him irritably. “You still hide things from me! You did it back in high school and you still do it now! Most of the time you talk like there’s no tomorrow and then there’s times where you look upset and it’s like pulling teeth! I don’t understand!”

Hinata squirms visibly under the tirade, though the anger in his face doesn’t leave. “I talk to you!” he shouts back, his voice climbing higher as Tobio’s does. “I always talk to you!”

Tobio gapes at this blatant lie. “You talk to me up until suddenly you want to clam up!” he rants, throwing his hands up in the air. “I know I find it hard to admit things and… and _talk_ , but at least I _try!_ I don’t… I know I’m not _good_ with words but…” he breaks off, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck Shouyou, you’re normally so open but sometimes you’re clearly upset, or bothered by something, and rather than just telling me what the fuck it is you just! Cover it up with smiles and change the subject and I’m _sick_ of it!”

Hinata has no response to this, his shoulders steadily rising, getting close to his ears. He’s tense all over, like a bow string, or a horse about to bolt. And Tobio should really stop here, really he should, before he smashes something to smithereens with his awful temper, but now he’s on a roll he just can’t stop.

“I’ve known you for years. I’ve been your damn boyfriend for years. I’m tired of worrying about why you’re upset when you can just fucking tell me!” Tobio bursts out, chest heaving with the force of the emotion surging through him.

Silence meets his words, and Tobio forces every shred of will left in him to clamp his jaw shut, breathing harshly through his nose as he regards his partner, waiting for the rebuttal. For the argument, the spitting fire, the row that they never have because even though they bicker all the time they never really argue, not like this. Not since they were teenagers, young and immature and brash.

But Hinata doesn’t shout back. He doesn’t speak at all. And, after a long, almost unbearable moment, he doesn’t even look angry. The lines in his face fade, and the fire in his eyes dims, until suddenly he looks several years younger. A kid all over again, vulnerable and wobbly and desperately unsure. Tobio watches, in steadily growing horror, as Hinata stops looking like he wants to fight back and looks like he might simply cry right there. The upset builds, until Hinata’s mouth is a trembling, white lipped line, and his brow twists, eyes getting suspiciously shiny.

Tobio’s feet are moving before he registers it.

“ _Mmmpff_ ,” Hinata grunts into his sternum as Tobio gathers him up briskly in his arms, crushing him close before Hinata can dart off or Tobio can ruin this any further than he has already done.

“Sorry,” he says gruffly into Hinata’s crown, rubbing one hand roughly down his back when he feels Hinata shudder against him. “I didn’t… that was too much. I’m sorry.” He half means it. The words were true but Tobio regrets the force behind them, and the more his temper recedes the more shame starts to build in its place.

For a long while, Hinata just stands in Tobio’s arms, still except for the slight shudder that wracks him every time he sucks in a breath. Tobio doesn’t move, just carefully continues rubbing his back, wondering with increasing panic if he really has just gone over the line. That Hinata will finish collecting himself in a minute, and then he’ll tear himself out of Tobio’s arms and… Tobio doesn’t really know.

“I’ve always had to be fine.”

The words are said so quietly, pressed against Tobio’s shirt, that he almost misses them.

Hinata drags in a long breath and releases it slowly, smoothly, without a single tremor. Then he finally moves, but not to pull away. Instead he winds his own arms around Tobio’s waist, shifting himself until he rests into the embrace more comfortably, but keeping his face pillowed and hidden against Tobio’s chest.

Tobio holds him and waits for him to elaborate.

“Before… in high school, I mean, I always felt like I was so close to not being able to play. All the time. Like if I stopped for even a single moment I’d lose my spot, or you would become so far out of reach that I’d never catch up. So I just ran forwards. I didn’t look back, didn’t let myself get stuck, always trying get higher, get better.”

Tobio hums. “But that didn’t end so well, did it?”

He wonders if either of them will ever truly forget that fever.

“I was reckless,” Hinata agrees, his face still hidden. Tobio sort of wishes he could see his expression right now, but Hinata is talking, and he’s not about to interrupt. “I was _really_ reckless, and I learnt the hard way that charging forwards is no kind of plan. So I had to learn to be fine. Every day, through habit. Self-maintenance, isn’t that what you call it?”

“True…” Tobio acknowledges. And Hinata is fine. He’s healthy. He sleeps well, eats well, exercises in a way that’s beneficial and not damaging himself in the long term. Tobio even finds him meditating sometimes, or moving through yoga poses, finding some calm in amongst a life that demands so much energy from him.

“But sometimes,” Tobio continues, speaking carefully so as to not spook Hinata, or upset him further, “I think you aren’t fine. And it’s so rare I wonder if even you notice that something’s bothering you. But when I ask you just clam up.”

Hinata doesn’t reply at first, but Tobio can tell from the way his fingers start plucking at his shirt that he’s thinking instead, trying to summon the words that he wants to use.

“It’s hard,” Hinata says eventually, his voice very small, “to admit it when things build. I don’t… like looking at it, I guess. So I don’t say.”

Tobio considers this. He can see it – Hinata is a relentless, never ending force of positivity and drive, burning through life with a passion others can only dream of, the sun condensed into a relatively small person.

But he’s still human, and sadness cannot be escaped indefinitely.

He understands, he thinks, Hinata’s wish to not dwell on it. He’s always had a habit of turning conversations around to talk about others instead of himself, cheering others on with the full force of his being. He spends so much time lifting himself up, and lifting everyone else up in his wake, it’s no wonder that he doesn’t want to sit still and ponder the darkness whenever it tries to creep in.

But things build. And eventually, things break.

“Do you trust me?”

Hinata stirs at Tobio’s words, wiggling slightly in his arms until eventually he reveals his face, leaning back just enough so that he can peer up at Tobio curiously. His cheeks are just the slightest bit damp, but his eyes are dry and bright once more.

“Of course I do,” Hinata replies, sounding confused as to why he’s even being asked this.

“Well,” Tobio says, stepping back out of their embrace to rest his hands firmly on Hinata’s upper arms. “I’m always going to be here, so whenever something bothers you and it starts to get a bit too much… just tell me. We always solve problems best together.”

Hinata blinks rapidly, swallowing visibly, before he reaches up and grabs Tobio’s hands, pulling until he can hold them loosely in his. It always surprises Tobio how much smaller they are. Then, with a murmured, “c’mere” Hinata tugs gently, leading Tobio by the hand until they reach the living room. They settle on the sofa, side by side, and it all feels entirely too formal before Hinata is huffing irritably and burrowing himself into Tobio’s side with determination, looping his arms around his waist and dropping his head onto his shoulder.

Tobio suppresses a smirk into Hinata’s hair. He’s clingy, and tactile, and always has been, but he won’t call out him for it now.

“So?” he prompts, knocking the back of his knuckles against Hinata’s skull. “What’s going on in here?”

“You can’t get mad until I finish,” Hinata says, and he pinches Tobio’s waist in warning.

Tobio raises his eyebrows, but hums his agreement nonetheless.

“It’s… hmmm,” Hinata clucks his tongue, like he’s thinking. “So practice is amazing, right?”

“It is,” Tobio agrees, feeling his smirk widen into more of a smile.

“It’s so good. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do for forever and it’s the best, every time it’s like _‘fwaaaaah!’_ in my chest, you know? This is the _best_ volleyball,” Hinata starts to explain, or rather rant, a happy babble of words that loosens the knot in Tobio’s chest slightly. “And I feel good, I feel _so good_ , after every session and I just can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow, but...”

He trails off, silent until Tobio tugs very gently at his hair.

“Sometimes… I see posts. Online. And articles and stuff. About me, about the team,” Hinata says, his voice losing its excitement and quickly becoming cautious, tentative. “And I just… think. What if I’m not doing enough? It’s like the dream is here and it’s finally _real_ , but if I make a mistake or I’m not doing enough then it’ll be gone, just like that. And I then I wonder if I should try harder, try more, but I remember the fever and I _can’t_ , I can’t be reckless like that again but I need- I _need_ to be good. _Better_ than good. They’ve got Hoshiumi-san who’s short too and Ushijima-san’s in the same position and there’s so many other players who could do this so I can’t stop, but-“

“Stop.”

Hinata’s frantic words halt as soon as Tobio commands it, his voice a stern knife cutting through the panic.

“Come here,” Tobio instructs, his voice bossy but soft, and he pulls and tugs at an increasingly surly looking Hinata until his boyfriend is perched on his lap, knees either side of this thighs. He’s way too heavy to sit here for long now, but this way Tobio can look into his face properly.

“First off,” Tobio says, resting his hands on Hinata’s hips to keep him still. Hinata reaches out with searching fingers and starts plucking at Tobio’s shirt. But he doesn’t look away, remaining attentive, and Tobio feels emboldened to continue. “I’m going to introduce you to my social media manager.”

A little crease appears between Hinata’s eyebrows.

“It was recommended to me when I joined the Adlers,” Tobio shrugs. A relatively minor detail in a sea of logistics that came with being a professional volleyball player. He’d probably forgotten to mention it to Hinata, likely because compared to volleyball itself it’s exceedingly dull. “She does something to my feed, so I can only see certain things. And also helps me with posts when I need to make them. That might sound controlling, but it helps, especially when you start getting more attention. People don’t shut up, and they’ll never shut up.”

“That’s true…” Hinata admits, twisting Tobio’s shirt between his fingers.

“People are always going to say shit. That doesn’t mean you have to read it, or that they’re even right. People blast their opinion all day, and they’d do it even if you were perfect. And you know you can’t be perfect, right?”

Tobio searches Hinata’s gaze as he says this, tightening his grip on his hips a little. Hinata doesn’t reply with words, but he does give a jerky sort of nod, and his mouth is set in that line that suggests he’s processing, taking in what he’s being told.

“You know… in Ushijima-san’s first game, he got stuffed nearly every time. Barely scored any points.”

“Huh?” Hinata jolts so badly in Tobio’s lap he nearly falls off, eyes wide. “Really?”

Tobio nods. “Yeah. But he’s still on the team, and you wouldn’t think of him as a poor player, would you?”

“No…”

“You’re going to have bad games. We’re _all_ going to have bad games. But one bad game every now and then isn’t going to get you kicked off the team. Hibarida-san wouldn’t have even invited you if he thought he might replace you next week. This is the _national team_ , Shouyou, and you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t bringing something no-one else can.”

The beginnings of a smile flicker at the edges of Hinata’s mouth and he drops Tobio’s shirt in favour of running his hands up and down his torso instead. “Greatest decoy huh?” he says, his words hopelessly fond, and his smile widens and warms.

Tobio basks in it. It’s like watching the sun come up.

To think, Hinata once hated that name.

“You know how you’ve always been catching up to me?” Tobio asks.

Hinata tilts his head at him. “Yeah?”

“I feel like I have to catch up to you now. Only sometimes though.”

The smile on Hinata’s face vanishes, wiped clear in favour of slack-jawed shock instead. “What?” he whispers, disbelieving.

Tobio shrugs. “Why are you so surprised? You didn’t spend all that time abroad to not hone what you’re best at, right? Of course I’m going to chase you. I’m not letting you beat me.”

And it’s true. It’s not even a platitude, or just reassurance. Sometimes Hinata does things on the court that takes Tobio’s breath away. An endlessly burning star that he wants to chase forever.

“Someone even better will come along, and find you.”

Hinata’s shocked face melts into soft curiosity. “What’s that from?”

Tobio swallows roughly. His chest hurts, but in the best way. It’s been a long, long time since he’s been able to think about these words without hurting. “Something somebody told me once,” he says quietly, running his thumbs over Hinata’s hip bones.

Slowly, Hinata smiles again, butter soft and chocolatey warm as understanding dawns in his eyes. Tobio hasn’t told him the whole story about his grandfather, but perhaps he’s told him just enough for Hinata to put the pieces together. It’s never very hard for him.

Stroking his hands up Tobio’s torso, Hinata leans forward in his lap until his palms are cradling Tobio’s jaw. “I’m always going to chase you,” he promises, “I’m _never_ going to stop chasing you.”

“Good, because I’m not going to stop chasing you either,” Tobio murmurs, running his hands up Hinata’s sides until he’s holding his ribcage, feel that strong heartbeat beneath his palms.

Hinata laughs, soft and wet, caught up in sudden emotion. He shakes ever so slightly in Tobio’s hands. “Are we weird?” he muses.

“Maybe,” Tobio shrugs again, completely unbothered. “But who cares?”

Sticky toffee eyes, pudding warm and oh so brown, gaze back at him, and Hinata strokes his thumbs over Tobio’s cheekbones as he considers him. He looks like he might say something, but he doesn’t, instead he leans further in, chasing for kisses.

Tobio lifts a hand from Hinata’s chest, lightning fast, and shoves it between their faces, all his fingers curled into towards his palm

All except one.

Hinata blinks at the pinkie finger being held up right in front of his nose.

“I promise,” Tobio says, his words bold and sure, “to never think you’re weak, or being stupid, if you promise to tell me things when you’re upset.”

There’s a brief pause, as Hinata shudders in his lap again, before he sniffs wetly, a choked sounding giggle bubbling out. He lifts a hand from Tobio’s face and hooks his pinkie around his, shaking their fingers together solemnly.

“I promise,” he says, slightly wobbly but no less confident in his words, “to try and tell you, as long as you try and tell me the rest of those stories one day.”

Tobio knows which ones he means, and he knows Hinata is not rushing him for them. He simply wants to hear them whenever Tobio is ready to share.

Their fingers drop, and finally Hinata closes the distance, kissing Tobio soft and deep and it’s just so intense, just so _much_ that Tobio’s heart twists in his chest, and he curls his arms around Hinata tighter, drawing him closer, pulling that strong body as close to his as possible.

Things can’t always be fixed with just one conversation, but right now, Tobio kind of feels like the pair of them are bulletproof. 

* * *

Many months later, after a successful international season where Japan climbed three places on the worldwide rankings, and Tobio managed to survive a whole season abroad playing for Ali Roma, another conversation occurs on the sofa.

The same sofa, because Tobio had ended up buying the apartment outright shortly before he left for Italy. Even if he would be abroad, and Hinata would be in Osaka, once they were back together again, he wanted them to have the same place to return to. It’s small, but it’s home.

And so, one afternoon on a rest day, Tobio is lounging on the sofa, flipping through the most recent issue of Volleyball Monthly when he feels a chin drop down onto the top of his head, a weight pressing on top of him from behind the sofa.

“Kageyama…” Hinata says, or rather whines.

“Hmmm?”

“… Can I ask you something?”

Tobio pauses halfway through reading an article about joint braces.

There’s a shuffling noise behind him, and then Hinata is dropping his arms over his front, nervous fingers pulling at his t-shirt absently. Tobio watches their movements, assessing. Hinata never struggles to ask him day-to-day questions, or pepper him with volleyball thoughts and demand his opinion on them, but the bigger things? Not so much.

Well, until now.

He reaches up with one hand, his magazine falling closed in his lap, and allows Hinata’s fingers to capture his. Hinata picks and pulls at them intermittently, pressing himself closer against the back of Tobio’s neck, turning his head until his cheek is pillowed on top instead. Tobio doesn’t have to see to know he’s pouting.

He turns over the options in his head on how to respond. It’s tempted to ask what’s wrong, but he doesn’t want to spook Hinata. This is the first time Hinata has approached him since their conversation, and judging by his voice and mannerisms, this is more than just a simple query. Tobio isn’t sure what it’s about just yet, but he feels like they’re on the edge of something a little momentous.

“Of course,” he settles for, keeping his tone deliberately neutral.

“I got an offer,” Hinata replies immediately, all in a rush, like he’d been waiting for the opportunity to speak. “For another team.”

Tobio jolts slightly in his seat, and he turns on the sofa, jostling Hinata’s grip, so that he can face him fully. “Which one?” he asks, curiosity overriding tact.

Hinata’s performance with the Jackals surely can’t have gone unnoticed. He’s their rising star, their jumpstart to the top of the League. Technically, any other team – even the Adlers, he’s slightly bitter to note – would be a step down at this point. Plus, he has a very good relationship with his teammates, and it seems a shame to switch them for… a different experience? Money? Location? But none of those seem right…

Hinata fidgets, before straightening, vaulting over the back of the sofa – he could’ve walked around it like a normal person, but… he is who he is – and settling down across from Tobio, planting his feet on the cushions and wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Not in the V-League,” he says eventually, fingers picking at his shorts where they stretch across his thighs.

“International?” Tobio demands, excitement sparking in his chest. Getting noticed by an international team after only two seasons – that is impressive. Especially considering Hinata’s unconventionality.

His excitement seems to be infectious, as Hinata beams suddenly, a welcome grin bursting on his face. “Asas Sao Paulo… in the Brazil Super League,” he confirms, and it’s like he glitters when he says it.

Tobio nearly falls off the sofa. The Brazil Super League? That’s a huge step. “Did you take it?”

“Well…” Hinata starts, and his smile dims slightly and he starts to look a little nervous again. “I wanted to talk you about it first.”

Tobio tilts his head, a little baffled. He doesn’t think he knows any more about the Brazil Super League than Hinata does. In fact, Hinata probably knows far more than he does. He’s likely to have researched where Asas Sao Paulo stand, and he spent two years living in Brazil. He definitely has a one-up on Tobio in terms of knowledge.

“I want to go,” Hinata explains, when Tobio offers nothing further. “I _really_ want to go, but I just. Wanted to talk to you first. You’ve already played abroad after all.”

And Tobio has. His first season with Ali Roma was incredible – if extremely challenging at times, being forced to use that much English on a day-to-day basis – but he’s still a little confused. Hinata’s made all of his volleyball decisions without him so far, their strategies on the court together exempt of course, so he’s a little thrown by this sudden demand for his thoughts.

“Why my opinion?” Tobio asks, seeking clarification. When he made Hinata promise to talk to him more he thought it would be just being fully open with each other. This is territory he didn’t expect to navigate.

Hinata stares at him for a moment before he flings his hands out wide. “Because!” he bursts out, “You’re my partner! And you have _really_ good knowledge and trust your opinion and honesty more than anyone else’s! If it’s a bad idea you of all people aren’t going to struggle to tell me! I want to do it, but…” he breaks off suddenly, looking jittery, before he plasters a look of bravery on his face and ploughs on. “But you wanted us to talk more. So here I am!”

Tobio finds himself temporarily speechless.

He’s reminded, very suddenly, of back in high school, when Hinata had made the decision to travel halfway around the world to Brazil, to live and train there, and had decided all of this without telling Tobio anything until the deal was done. And he remembers how betrayed he had felt at the time, thinking Hinata hadn’t thought it important to tell his own boyfriend his life plans.

And now here Hinata is, as declared, potentially making the decision to go back to the country that had become his second home, but this time, he’s including Tobio in the process.

“Okay. I can… try,” Tobio says, licking his lips and trying not to look too awkward. Supporting Hinata is something he’s always found very easy, but this sort of advice he’s never had to give anyone. He’s been blindsided by so many things in the past five minutes and he feels hopelessly unprepared.

Hinata looks at him, _really_ looks at him, and tilts his head slightly, assessing. “You know… it’s okay if you’re not an expert or anything,” he says, and Tobio suddenly feels like Hinata has just taken a peek inside his brain. “But you’ve always been honest with me, and nobody supports me more than you do, so if anyone’s going to help me with this decision it’s obviously going to be you.”

Tobio finds himself stalling once again. His mind replaying _‘nobody supports me more’_ in an endless feedback loop. “Lots of people support you,” he points out, half in protest, half in honesty. Because it’s true, Hinata has lots of people in his corner.

Hinata stares at him again like he’s just said something remarkably stupid. “But you’ve been there since I was fifteen! Every step of the way, even from middle school, you’ve been there!”

“Oh.” Tobio supposes he has.

He just hadn’t realised Hinata how much had taken it to heart. He always worried a bit that he had pushed too much, especially in the early days, for Hinata to become the player he knew he could be, perhaps before he was ready to.

Hinata goes to speak again before he pauses, and then he’s moving, shuffling along the cushions until he’s bullying his way into Tobio’s space, burrowing against his side.

“You’re the most supportive person in my life,” Hinata insists, pressing the words into Tobio’s shirt as he huddles himself close. “You always have been.”

“… Oh,” Tobio says again, just as intelligently, as a hopeless, endless warmth fills him from head to toe. He bends his head, suppressing a sudden, wobbly, silly smile into Hinata’s crown as he feels the ridiculous urge to giggle. All this time, he’d been worried he hadn’t really being doing enough. Hinata had dropped into his life, the light that he’d sorely needed, the partner he’d been waiting so long for, and Tobio had always thought he’d never quite measured up to what he had been given.

But, of course, Hinata continues to surprise him.

“You got a contract right?” he says finally into Hinata’s hair, forcing an arm between Hinata and the sofa cushions so he can give him a squeeze. “Even a draft one?”

“Uh huh…”

“Go fetch it then.”

Hinata emerges from the folds of his shirt, beams at him like the first light at dawn, and plants a kiss on his cheek before scrabbling upright, scampering off to find the papers he’s no doubt been sent.

* * *

Every now and then, Hinata will do something that completely takes Tobio off guard, mesmerising him so much he’s forced to react in a way he never would otherwise.

It’s a practice session. A standard, middle of the week, during the tail end of the morning, practice session. Granted, it’s for the national team, so it’s gruelling and hard and relentless, with every single person as monstrous as each other, but this is their standard now. By any of their normal measures, it’s a perfectly ordinary day.

They’ve been split into teams, trying out different rotations, different combinations. Hibarida loves to shake things up after all. Tobio finds himself on the other side of the net from Hinata for this round, which is its own unique sort of thrill because it means he can serve to him to all day.

Serving to Hinata has always been fun. From the slightly sadistic flavour of watching someone scramble to get his serve up in the very beginning, to the admiration of Hinata’s relentless determination, to now – where Tobio has to really think about where to aim, because otherwise Hinata will get it up every time.

It starts out as a standard jump serve. He’s been trying a few different angles and is throwing in a traditional one in an attempt to throw the other team off – the usual punt to the far corner of the court, just brushing the lines. The ball goes up as it should and Tobio takes off to hit it in his usual practiced manner, but when his palm hits leather the angle is just so slightly off.

The ball sails across the court and Tobio’s brow ticks slightly when he notes the trajectory. Looks like it’s going to become a net ball-

It’s not. Not quite. The ball doesn’t hit the top of the net, but rather brushes the tip of it. The momentum is slowed, but not by much, and the team on the other side hover, unsure, as the ball crosses onto their side.

Will it fall in front, or keep going? Far? Near?

Sakusa stalls and Komori launches for it, but he overcompensates, aiming too close to the net. The ball clears him, and starts its descent right in the middle of the court.

And straight into Hinata’s waiting hands.

His position is a little awkward, almost reminiscent of Atsumu’s limbo overhand sets, and his thighs shake visibly with the effort of staying upright at this strange angle, but he catches the ball with his fingers all the same.

Tobio watches as it sails upwards – not in an uncoordinated, messy curve like he would expect for a receive like that. A receive made out of desperation, no time to aim, just get the ball _up-_

But Hinata _had_ aimed. The ball curves skyward in a perfect arc, not too fast, not too high, and spins neatly into Atsumu’s waiting palms – perfect.

“Nice receive.”

The words spring out of him, brought to life without any conscious thought. The ball is not meant for him, but Tobio is a setter, and his heart simply sings at seeing a ball bumped so perfectly. The things he could do with that; the possibilities are endless.

Atsumu takes it and then sends it straight to Sakusa – who has recovered – and then within a blink it’s smashed back over the net. Hibarida’s whistle blows sharply as the set comes to an end, and there’s a few cheers on Hinata’s side as his team takes the victory for this round, but Hinata himself isn’t joining in.

He isn’t even smiling. He’s just standing there, arms still halfway raised from his miracle perfect receive, gaping at Tobio like he’s never seen him before. Tobio cocks his head at him, confused, as he takes in the wide eyes and slack mouth and the unblinking stare. At this point, Hinata has been on the winning side with Tobio on the other side of the net plenty of times now – what’s he so shocked for?

Then, all at once, Hinata springs to life, starting visibly and darting under the net in a blur, narrowly missing Atsumu’s haphazard attempt for a high five. Within moments he’s scurried right in front of Tobio, crowding close into his space, eyes huge and golden. Tobio doesn’t even feel the urge to take a step back. Hinata does this often after all, albeit normally not in the middle of practice-

“Say that again,” Hinata demands, breathlessly, staring up at Tobio like he’s just hung the sun itself in the sky.

“I… what?” Tobio mumbles, at a complete loss. Say what again? What did he say?

Oh.

All at once, Tobio’s good mood evaporates – eclipsed by the dark, thunderous cloud that rolls in when he’s just _lost._

Because he’s made it a point, over the years, to never say it. To not let Hinata hear the words ‘nice receive’ from his own mouth if he can in any way physically help it. It’s not that he doesn’t think Hinata’s receives are still bad – far from it, he thinks they’re absolutely incredible – it’s just a point of pride. It’s like a running joke, an ongoing promise he has with himself to always grunt “no” whenever Hinata pesters him for praise on this one particular thing.

He’s only been caught once, years ago, during one miracle save when they weren’t even together, but unlike then, now he can’t lie about it. Their teammates here are less forgiving than their upperclassmen at Karasuno – there would be no fond laughs, no rueful smiles. Tobio says he saw nothing here and all he’ll get is ribbing.

Everyone heard him after all.

 _“Kageyama,”_ Hinata growls. Or tires to. It comes out more like a whining groan.

“Yes?” Tobio asks, the picture of innocence.

“You said it!” Hinata despairs, throwing his hands up. Several of their teammates are now conferring amongst themselves, looking utterly lost. “I heard you! Admit it already!”

Tobio drop his head back and glares at the ceiling lights, letting the glow of them burn his retinas. A fitting punishment for his tragic slip of the tongue. All these years, and he has finally lost this battle.

Closing his eyes with a deep, pained sigh, Tobio replays the receive out in his mind. Looking for any flaw, any mistake, any slight blip that might help him climb out of this hole. But he can think of nothing. Because it had been utterly perfect. Accurate, quick, and looked really cool to boot. Tobio cannot think of one singular criticism.

And with that, the frustration in his body simply drains away. Evaporates immediately, like it was never there.

He feels immensely childish suddenly. Even though he knows his competitiveness with Hinata is often a little childish, by most peoples’ standards, Hinata is just as bad as he is, so it’s fine. But this isn’t a competition, this is just… stubbornness. And Hinata isn’t just some kid he’s being forced to play with that he wants to compete against all the time to test if he’s worth waiting for – he hasn’t been that person for a long, long time.

Hinata is his partner, in life and on the court, and he’s more than enough to not deserve Tobio’s particular brand of pettiness.

So he rocks his head back down, lowering his gaze until he meets Hinata’s – petulant and expectant – and speaks clearly.

“Nice receive.”

The murmuring around them gets a little louder as Hinata’s eyes blow wide and he squawks noisily, visibly vibrating on the spot. And it’s sort of fun, getting this reaction out of Hinata with such a simple sentence.

 _“Really?”_ Hinata all but squeaks. His eyes are simply massive and almost shiny, and Tobio gets the feeling, not for the first time, that he’s being twinkled at before the expression drops as Hinata squints at him suspiciously. “Actually though?”

Tobio resists the urge to sigh. _Always chasing_. He really can’t fault him for it though.

“Yes,” he confirms, exasperated. “Very nice. Perfect even. You didn’t even drop a knee.”

Hinata just blinks at him, stunned into silence. His eyes are very, very shiny and suddenly Tobio is a little terrified he might burst into tears with the rest of the national team as his audience. Then he sucks in a breath, sharp and shuddering, and balls his hands into little fists, hovering by his chest.

 _“Perfect?”_ he repeats, voice high and a little breathy.

Tobio has barely enough time to nod, caught between impatience (he’s getting steadily more aware they’re holding practice up and he’s itching to play again) and fond amusement. Hinata always does seem to manage to be endearing, even when he’s being infuriating. But before Tobio can say anything, or wrap this up so they can keep going, Hinata is suddenly dropping down, one leg folding beneath him.

“What are you doing?” Tobio asks, extremely confused and starting to feel his impatience kicking up a notch – they really don’t have time for Hinata’s dramatics. He can see a few of their teammates starting to look antsy out of the corner of his eye.

“Dropping a knee,” Hinata replies, his voice softer than usual, like he himself can’t believe he’s acting so strangely. He shifts where’s kneeling, one kneepad pressing into the floor, and he twists his fingers into the other as the fabric stretches tight over the folded joint. He looks like he’s building himself up for something – the twist of his brow, the spark in his eyes, and the steady, measured breathing Tobio often sees him do when he’s practicing yoga at home.

Hinata straightens his shoulders, holds his breath, meets Tobio’s eye and says, into the expanse of the gym and in front of the most talented players in the entire country:

“Marry me.”

“… What?” Tobio says, intelligently.

For a moment, it’s like his brain has stalled. Like Hinata’s words have snuck into his skull and gotten the gears stuck, stopping them from turning, rendering him frozen and useless. He stands there, gaping, unable to form one singular thought, his mind spinning around in his circles as he finally takes in Hinata’s pose.

Kneeling. On one knee.

“I do have a ring,” Hinata goes on to say, throwing an arm out and flapping at hand in the vague direction of the gym doors. “I didn’t bring it to practice obviously but I do have one and it’s really nice but I told myself I’d wait until you said ‘nice receive’ because it would be kind of a reward… or maybe _your_ reward because I’m marrying you and-“

“Say that again,” Tobio demands, interrupting the babbling. The gym is almost silent, as not one monster says a single word.

Hinata falls quiet and looks up at him. Tobio feels his chest start to tighten, quick, fast little breaths squeaking in and out, his heart thudding painfully loud in his ears. The gears in his head refuse to move and he remains stuck, frozen, and unable to think or move because Hinata has-

“Marry me,” Hinata says, a little softer, a little warmer, and with so much affection Tobio feels like he might just melt through the cracks in the floorboards.

“You…” Tobio chokes out, as his body springs back into his control once more. He smacks his palms against his face, coughs out a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a groan of despair. “You were waiting until I said ‘nice receive’ before you proposed to me?”

He doesn’t think there will ever be a day when Hinata stops surprising him.

“Yeah! Kinda.”

Tobio drops his hands from his face at Hinata’s bright voice and looks down. Hinata beams up at him, wide and blinding, a ball of sunshine on a gymnasium floor. Tobio kind of feels like he’s burning when Hinata looks like this – sunbeams personified – but that’s okay.

He’ll happily spend the rest of his life getting burned by Hinata Shouyou.

“Is that a yes?” Hinata asks, or perhaps demands, still shimmering away with his knee still on the floor, face caught between hope and something resembling nerves.

The burble of voices in the background forcibly drags Tobio back into full awareness and he bends, grabbing Hinata’s upper arms and pulling roughly until he stands up.

“Yes,” he sighs, trying to keep his voice steady even though his throat is closing, and there’s something building up so rapidly within him that it makes his eyes burn and chest flutter. Tightening his grip on Hinata’s arms, he drags him close, wrapping him in a tight hug and twisting, using his body as a shield against the stares of everyone else.

The voices get a little louder.

“We’re in the middle of practice?” Pipes up one – Sakusa, he thinks, from the level tone and general disinterest.

_“Shh!”_

“Shut-up, let them get engaged!” Hisses another – Yaku.

“Oh my god they’re getting married…” Bokuto whimpers, and Tobio thinks he hears Atsumu laugh softly.

“They’re dating?” Whispers – still loud enough to be heard – someone else. Hoshiumi possibly.

“I believe so,” supplies Ushijima-san, as simplistic as always.

Tobio groans in embarrassment, but it’s only half hearted. Joy, infectious and all encompassing, is filling him, seeping into every inch of his body. He feels like if he jumped now he’d smash Hinata’s running vertical record to pieces. Like he could snatch the sun from the sky if he wanted to.

Good thing he has the sun right here in his arms instead.

“We’re at practice,” he hisses into Hinata’s hair as he buries his face in soft red waves, and he feels a huff of laughter against his chest where Hinata’s face is smashed against his front.

“You’re gonna marry me,” Hinata sings against his t-shirt, and then he’s hugging Tobio back just as tightly, squeezing hard.

Tobio wants to kiss him so badly, drop to the court right there and have his fill, but he’s still so very aware that they are in public, so he presses his lips against Hinata’s hairline discreetly before forcibly disentangling himself.

“Sorry for disrupting practice,” he announces to the room, miraculously managing to keep a straight face even as his cheeks burn.

(Hinata doesn’t bother to school his expression, still beaming like he’s just won every gold medal for every competition all at once.)

The monsters around them blink as one unit, before Bokuto hollers out – slightly choked – _“Congratulations!”_ And then an impromptu cheer goes up amongst the players. A couple still look a little confused, or mildly bewildered by the interruption, but they still move as one, and then Tobio finds himself in the middle of a very large group hug.

It’s awkward, and more than a little embarrassing, but Tobio doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

* * *

“Hey.”

Tobio swivels to look over his shoulder, pausing.

The rest of the team shuffle out of the changing room, towards the stadium, towards the final game of the Olympics.

Hinata stands behind him, hanging back, looking up at Tobio with a look so familiar, Tobio’s heart twists with the nostalgia of it.

“Toss to me lots today, okay?”

“If your receives are good enough.”

It’s a familiar exchange. It’s like “hello, good morning,” or “I love you, I love you too.” Things said every day, because they’re part of the routine. Not a match goes by now without them saying it.

Hinata’s eyes sparkle happily in response, but instead darting to catch up with their teammates like Tobio is expecting him too, he turns, and starts rummaging in his bag by his designated locker instead.

Tobio frowns. “What are you doing? We’ve got somewhere to be?”

“Two seconds!”

Tobio huffs and resists the urge to grab him by the scruff of his neck to drag him off. For this game, of all games, there is no time to dawdle.

Letting out a triumphant noise, Hinata steps back from his bag, a little box in his hand. It looks similar to a ring box, albeit larger, made of leather and designed to snap in half when it opens. He hurries over to Tobio before he can be questioned, opening the box and looping whatever’s inside out with his fingers.

“I have something for you! Where’s your ring?”

Tobio has just enough time to catch the glint of something sparkling against Hinata’s fingers before he turns, running a hand through his hair with a huff. He has no idea where this is going, but it’ll be easier to just follow along for now. Asking questions is just going to get him no answers; Hinata is stubborn in this way.

With a long suffering sigh, Tobio heads for his still open locker and fishes around inside before his fingers curl over a cool loop of metal. He’s unable to smother his smile when he picks it up, the gold sitting neatly in his palm, unblemished and flawless from how new it still is.

If you had told Tobio, aged fourteen feeling like the entire world was against him, that the scrappy kid with all of the talent and none of the skill would become not only his someone better, but also his husband, he never would have believed you. Not even for a second.

And yet, here he is.

Curling his fingers around his wedding ring to stop it tumbling to the floor, he turns back to Hinata and holds it out to show him, eyebrow raised. Neither of them wore their rings while playing, not only is it against the rules, but it’s dangerous. Their fingers are important, the precious tools of their trade. It’s irresponsible to put them at risk with a ring of metal, no matter how important the symbol.

“Give it here,” Hinata demands, plucking it from Tobio’s palm.

Tobio frowns, noting the ring still around his husband’s finger. “What are you-“

“I got us something!” Hinata interrupts. Abruptly, he sits down on one of the locker room benches, dropping the leather box down beside him and fiddling with Tobio’s ring and whatever it is that he’d retrieved from the box earlier.

“Hinata we have to go-“

“Done!” As quickly as he’d sat down, Hinata is upright again, holding his hands out, fingers spread wide.

For a moment, Tobio thinks his wedding ring is floating in mid-air, and briefly marvels at this magic trick before he spots it: the thin gold chain it has been hung on.

It’s very fine, almost invisible with Hinata’s jersey as its backdrop, looped over Hinata’s thumbs as he holds it up.

“So you can wear it while we play,” Hinata explains, his eyes butter soft and voice hopelessly warm.

Wordlessly, Tobio reaches out, catching the fine chain with his fingers and lifting it free from Hinata’s thumbs. It’s very discreet, but it feels strong, not flimsy at all, and he takes a moment to admire the craftsmanship before he slips it over his head. His ring bumps lightly against his sternum as the chain settles around his neck, feather light but twinkling, tiny dots of sparkling gold across his skin.

Hinata nods, satisfied, and he steps up to Tobio, lifting his jersey away from his chest so he can slot the ring beneath, cool metal slipping over his skin.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Hinata murmurs, running his fingertips over the small bump the ring causes in Tobio’s jersey. “Not if you don’t want to, or if it’s uncomfortable, but I know I don’t like taking mine off, so…”

“I want to,” Tobio cuts in, capturing Hinata’s fingers where they trail across his chest. A wobbly smile blooms on his face as he looks down. He doesn’t like taking his ring off either, but he never thought to hang it around his neck like this. Leaning forward, he plants a quick kiss on Hinata’s forehead. “Thank you. But now we really have to go-“

“Two more seconds!”

Tobio fingers twitch with the urge to grab his husband once again as he scuttles off, but it dissipates slightly when Hinata snaps open the leather box again. Another glint of gold, shimmering around Hinata’s fingertips, and he understands. A matching chain.

“People are going to be suspicious you know,” Tobio grumps a minute later when they’re all but jogging down the corridor to catch up with their teammates. They’re not technically late – warm-ups won’t start for a while yet – but well, everyone knows about their relationship. They all attended their wedding after all. They’re going to _assume_ things.

“Oh they’ll forget in ten minutes,” Hinata says with a dismissive hand wave. His ring bounces against his chest as he jogs along. “It’s the _final,_ Tobio-“

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees breathlessly, as the weight of those words hit him all at once. He stops, abruptly, just before the corridor opens out into the stadium.

Hinata pauses as well, glancing at him curiously, before letting out a surprised squawk when Tobio grabs for him, yanking him close, kissing him fast and deep.

“Let’s win more gold,” Tobio murmurs against Hinata’s lips.

He feels his husband smile in return, kissing him one more time – the last opportunity they’ll have – before Hinata says, “you better give me all your best sets then.”

“Then I expect your best receives.”

Hinata smiles at him, wicked sharp and sunshine warm, and grabs for his hand, pulling him towards the stadium. 

Tobio follows, as he's always done, onto the court for their final battle as the sunbeams stream in.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter! @Emlee_J


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